Puppet Master
by purpleu
Summary: House has to return early from his extended medical leave to deal with a case involving the son of a prominent malpractice lawyer. His relationship with Lydia progresses as she meets the team.
1. Chapter 1

"Puppet Master"

Chapter One-"Pulling the Strings"

By: Purpleu

Wilson walked through the front doors of the hospital and over to the desk to sign in. He was always told it was a security procedure, but he secretly thought it was Cuddy's way of keeping track of House's comings and goings. Then again, given the state of the world today, it was a good idea to keep track of both employees and visitors. He let out a sigh; this was one of the many things he never gave a second thought to in his daily workings at the hospital. Wilson didn't want to be an administrator; even being head of oncology was more than he desired. People like Cuddy were able to handle paperwork and negotiating and be happy; not him.

Wilson felt a sudden pang of guilt; he hadn't been able to bring himself to visit Cuddy since she was sent to rehab. He knew he should, but he wasn't sure if he could handle it. Even as a doctor, seeing someone you know in that state, with those sorts of injuries, was a tough thing to do. Besides, deep down he knew this wasn't a rehab stop for Cuddy; it was the final destination.

He looked down at the log as he signed in, and saw House's scrawl from when he signed out last night. Wilson smiled; he couldn't help but be happy and amazed at what had happened to House; he opened up and fell in love, dealt with losing her without relapsing and now had her back in his life. And she is beautiful, funny, smart, and seems to know how to deal with House. Lydia doesn't appear to be trying to change him, Wilson thought; she's just trying to make him see that there are other ways of looking at the world. Yesterday was a good start.

"Morning, Wilson." Wilson's thoughts were intruded on by Foreman's arrival at the desk.

"Morning," Wilson said. Foreman picked up the pen to sign in, but was very quickly interrupted.

"Dr. Wilson, Dr. Foreman," a voice called out. Both of them turned to their left to see Jeffery Davidson, a member of the hospital's board walking toward them.

"This can't be good," Foreman said under his breath. Wilson nodded in agreement.

"Gentlemen, good morning," Davidson said as he shook their hands. "I need to speak to you about a bit of a delicate matter. May we step into your office?"

"Of course," said Wilson. Foreman led the way to the dean's office and held the door open for Davidson. Foreman and Wilson exchanged looks as Wilson entered the room.

"Coffee?" offered Foreman.

"No, nothing, thank you." He sat down in the nearest chair; Foreman and Wilson sat down nearby. "As you know, Mrs. Jeanne Hunter is a member of the hospital's Board of Directors as am I. She and her husband have a son, Tyler who is six and sadly, was born with some sort of genetic disorder. They feel that all the other doctors have missed the mark in reference to the diagnosis of their son." Wilson and Foreman looked at each other with a measure of relief; this wasn't going to be a monetary discussion. "The Hunters have been taking Tyler to a hospital in New York. They are upset enough about the situation and didn't want to mix their private matters with Mrs. Hunter's business here."

"Well, Mr. Davidson. We'd be happy to arrange to have our staff conduct an examination and all necessary tests to see what can be done to help," said Wilson.

"No offense, Dr. Wilson, but the Hunters don't want a regular member of the staff to diagnose their son; they want Dr. House and his team to handle this. They want Tyler admitted today and the case to be started immediately." Wilson and Foreman looked at each other.

"Why the sense of urgency?" asked Foreman. "Is he in pain at the moment?" Davidson stood up.

"No; but his parents are. His medical problems are causing them severe stress and frankly, they can't take it anymore. They want answers now."

"Unfortunately, Dr. House is still out on medical leave from the injuries he sustained in the crane collapse a few months ago," Wilson said. Davidson began to walk to the door.

"Then I suggest he speed up his recovery. It would put both him and his department in a very favorable light, in the opinion of Mrs. Hunter and myself; and possibly even enough board members to total a majority." He reached for the handle and opened the door. "The Hunters will be bringing Tyler in at two o'clock. They will have with them all his prior medical records so that there will be no delay in starting the case. Good day, gentlemen." He nodded to both of them and stepped out of the room. Foreman and Wilson sat in stunned silence.

"That..." began Wilson as he stood up, "that snarky little son-of-a bitch just made a veiled threat to the funding of the diagnostics department."

"It was anything but veiled. And if the kid had cancer, he would have threatened oncology. He has no qualms about throwing his weight around. To make matters worse, you know who _Mr._ Hunter is, don't you?" Foreman asked. Wilson nodded.

"Malcolm L. Hunter, esquire. One of the best malpractice attorneys going."

"Yep," said Foreman as he stood. "How the hell did his wife get a seat on the board? Given his profession, isn't it a conflict of interest?"

"She bought the seat several years back before they were married and no one's ever thought to challenge her." Wilson began to pace back and forth. "House is not going to be happy about needing to come back in. He was looking forward to spending time with Lydia." Foreman looked over at Wilson.

"You really think this is serious? I mean, she's not crazy or anything?" Wilson shook his head.

"She is the real thing. She's managed to get to a part of him that no one has before. And the really incredible thing is, he's listening." Foreman gave a little laugh.

"If House can find love, maybe there's hope for the rest of us." He started to walk to the door. "I'm going to head upstairs and let the team know what's happening. I'll let you handle House." Foreman left the room and headed to the elevators.

"Gee, thanks," said Wilson. He knew Foreman was right; he was the better one of the two to deal with House. At least House knew about the meeting he and Foreman had with a few of the board members yesterday, so any monetary issues won't be a total shock. Wilson took out his cell phone to call House, but quickly put it away. What am I doing? It's just past eight-thity; he's probably still in bed.

How very, very true…..

House rolled slowly onto his back, breathing heavily. He looked to his left and saw that Lydia, too was trying to catch her breath; he couldn't help but smile. Lydia turned her head and returned his look. She turned on to her right side and snuggled up against him; he raised his arm to let her get in closer.

"Comfortable?" House asked.

"I'm comfortable, I'm happy, I feel safe and loved. I couldn't ask for anything else." House kissed her head.

"Well, you could ask, but if it required me to leave this bed right now, it's not happening." Lydia laughed.

"If it required you leaving this bed, then I wouldn't ask," she said moving her arm across his chest and tucking it between the bed and his upper body. "You are staying right here." House ran his hand down the side of Lydia's face and under her chin; he gently lifted her head until their eyes met.

"I love you," he said.

"And I'm very fond of you, too," she said. House gave her a look as she burst into laughter.

"I was hoping for a more expressive declaration of affection than fond; especially after the night we had." Lydia closed her eyes and sighed.

"It was the best night of my life."

"So far." House kissed her on the forehead, worked his way down to the tip of her nose and finally her lips. "I would have bet that you'd say the night your children were born was the best. That seems to be the sentiment of most women. Women who are mothers, that is." Lydia gave him a look.

"My children were born in the morning. I was in labor at night."

"Ouch!" exclaimed House. "I notice they were both C-sections." Lydia sat up and folded her arms in front of her chest.

"We were in the middle of making love and you not only notice my C-section scar, but…you notice that the surgeon didn't cut exactly on the same line the second time?" she asked.

"I'm a doctor; I'm sort of trained to notice these things," House said sarcastically. Lydia slowly nodded her head.

"I see," she said very deliberately. "And I noticed that someone is ticklish." With that she reached over and poked House on each side of his body, right below his rib cage. He immediately brought his elbows into his sides to protect himself.

"Oh….do not start with me, you will not win," said House rolling on his side and reaching for Lydia. As she scooted toward the edge of the bed to get away from him, she noticed he winced and grabbed at his right leg.

"Greg, are you OK?" She moved back closer to him as he sat up.

"Yeah, just a quick shot of pain." House began to massage the leg. He reached behind himself to rearrange his pillows so he could sit up. Lydia did the same with her pillows.

"I'm not surprised it's hurting; you were very physically active in the past few hours," Lydia said with a shy smile. House nodded in agreement as he changed position on to his left hip.

"Yeah, I guess the equivalent of participating in five or so decathlons counts as physical activity."

"Especially when you win a gold medal each time." House smiled.

"You know, I think it may have been four rather than five. I demand a recount," he said as leaned over and started kissing her shoulder. Lydia pulled away.

"First of all, I wasn't keeping count; I was too busy enjoying the moment. And secondly," she said as she reached over House to his nightstand and picked up her cell phone, "the moving company said they were going to be the area between six and eight tonight."

"It's a good thing you saw you had a message when you went to the kitchen or you'd be in for a rather unpleasant surprise. What time is the appointment with the realtor?"

"Eleven-thirty. I'm going to have to rent a storage unit and put the things in there. If this place we're looking at turns out to be good, I won't need it for very long." Lydia looked over at House. He appeared to be lost in thought. "Greg?"

"I just had an idea. How much stuff do you have?" Lydia shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, not a full house worth of things; I have the children's beds, dressers, nightstands and toy chests. I have boxes with their clothing and toys and books. There's a small dinette set, boxes with dishes, pots and pans, other kitchen things. For the living room, I have a love seat, two end tables and my grandmother's rocker. Then a few boxes with my clothes, books and music. I'm going to need to go shopping and get a new bed. I certainly didn't want to keep my old one. I guess I do need something pretty large." She shook her head. "At least I don't have to fit my piano in somewhere." House turned quickly and looked at her.

"What do you mean?" he said sharply.

"I sold it."

"Why?" Lydia let out a little laugh.

"Well, my ex certainly didn't want it since he doesn't play. And when I looked into the cost of moving it, I just couldn't do it. So, I sold it to a local music school near where we lived. What I got for it, paid for our moving costs." She sighed. "I had that piano for a long time. The kids are going to miss it terribly." House looked surprised.

"Your kids play? Are you hindering the development of the next Mozart?" Lydia smiled.

"No, they just enjoyed it. Elise was so proud that she had learned to play chopsticks." House saw her brush a tear off her cheek. He reached over and pulled her close to him; he began gently rubbing her arm. "What was the idea you had?" she asked.

"Wilson rented a storage unit to put my motorcycle in while I was in the hospital. It was brought to him from the crash site by one of the rescue workers. I think he was overwhelmed and rather than bring it back here or his place, he just went the storage locker route. Rentals are usually for several months at a time, so unless I'm mistaken, he should have a little over a month left on the lease."

"And it's empty right now?" House could hear the hope in her voice.

"Unless he's moved his collection of ABBA records in there; in which case it would be pretty full."

"But, do you think everything will fit?" House thought for a moment.

"If these moving guys are any good, they should be able to put all the furniture in there. The unit is far bigger than Wilson needed for the bike, but it was the only one available at this place. The boxes you can store here." Lydia shook her head.

"I take back what I said before; I'm not fond of you. I love you." House smiled.

"I really, really, really, really like you." Lydia gave him a look. "And I love you, too."

He was just about to kiss her when his cell phone rang. He made a face as he picked it up; it was Wilson. "Hmm…maybe there is something to this ESP stuff. It's Wilson." He picked up the call.

"Hi, I'd like to place an order for delivery. I need twenty-five pies, all half pepperoni; then I need another twenty-five pies, all with the other half pepperoni. Those should go to Dr. James Wilson in oncology at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. He'll pay for them when they arrive." There was a prolonged silence on the other end of the phone.

"Good morning, sunshine; my, you're in a good mood for being awake at this hour."

"Well, when you had the kind of night I had, you can't help but be in a good mood. Of course, I'm waiting for complaints from the neighbors over all the loud moans and screams that were coming from here. I'll just tell them I left Animal Planet on all night." Lydia had a horrified expression on her face.

"Greg!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, my God; Lydia's still there?" House rolled his eyes.

"What did you think I was going to do? Kick her out into the street at three o'clock in the morning? I wouldn't do that. I need my wake-up nummies, too." Lydia threw her hands up in the air.

"Give me the phone. Give me that phone this instant," she said as she held her hand out for it.

"Will not. I'll put you on speaker." House pushed a button on his phone and immediately they heard the background noise of the hospital. Lydia was still giving House the evil eye as she cleared her throat.

"Good morning, James."

"Lydia, I'm sorry; I didn't even think about the fact that you would still be there. Not that House would have you leave or that you would have any reason to, leave, but…"

"James, it's OK," Lydia said. She was trying to keep from laughing at his awkwardness. "Actually, we were just going to call you."

"Oh?" said Wilson a little taken back, "what about?"

"Well Greg tells me that you had rented a storage facility to put his motorcycle in while he was recovering from the crane collapse. I was wondering if you still had use of it."

"Yes, I do. The shortest term deal I could get was for three months, so I have another five or six weeks left on the lease." Lydia smiled.

"Would I be able to borrow it for a short time? My friend Annie and I are still trying to find a place to live that would accommodate the four of us and that we can afford."

"The…_four_ of you?" Wilson questioned.

"Yes, Annie, myself and my two children. It would only be for a very short while. My children arrive next Friday and I have to at least be started on settling in somewhere. Plus, the moving truck is coming today to deliver my things and I didn't know what to do, until Greg came up with this idea."

"Yeah, aren't I a peach?" interjected House.

"Yes, cold and fuzzy," retorted Wilson. House made a face.

"I'll deal with you later," he said threateningly. Wilson took a deep breath.

"Unfortunately, sooner than you think," said Wilson. "We have a problem." House looked concerned.

"With what? My patient from yesterday?"

"No; as far as I know, Mrs. James is doing just fine. This involves the son of Jeanne Hunter from the board of directors." House made a face of disgust.

"Which means he is also the spawn of Malcolm Hunter, amoral cockroach par excellent." House could see that Lydia was confused.

"Medical malpractice lawyer," he explained. She opened her eyes wide. "What's wrong with the little vermin?"

"Davidson really didn't say. The kid is six years old and, as he put it, was born with a genetic disorder, whatever that may mean," Wilson said. "I almost get the impression that they're not looking for a cure, just a correct diagnosis."

"Why do they think that the one they have isn't correct?"

"Basically Davidson said that the Hunters are under a lot of stress caring for the kid and they want answers yesterday." House rolled his eyes.

"So let them hire Fran Dresher. I don't think she's doing much of anything since "The Nanny" went off the air." House could hear Wilson laugh.

"If only it was that easy. They want you and your team to handle the case." House shook his head.

"No can do. I am out on medical leave on the advice of my doctor and the permission of my boss. They talked it over before coming to that decision. I am still recuperating and getting lots of TLC from my own private caregiver. I am off the clock for the next week." House said looking at Lydia and smiling.

"House, he basically threatened the department's funding if you don't take the case. He said that it would put you and the department in a favorable light with the majority of the board. If you refuse…" House had been annoyed by the request; now, he was pissed off.

"Foreman said something yesterday about questioning the funding of the department. The department is over eighty-five percent funded by donations, donations that are made because my team and I saved a bunch of lives. I think it would be bad PR for the hospital if my department disappeared."

"House, the department isn't eighty-five percent funded by donations, it's more like fifty percent," said Wilson. House shook his head.

"No, Cuddy told me…"

"Cuddy lied to you. She lied to me about oncology, too; I don't know why. The donation amounts she told each of us are probably correct; it's the cost of running the department that she downplayed. The hospital has been losing money for years and it's time to really tighten the belts. House, if you want to have any chance of keeping your team," Wilson took a deep breath, "or even your job, you have to take this case." House dropped his head down.

"If I get it right and help the kid, I win the lottery. If I can't figure it out, that bastard will make sure he ruins any chance I'll ever have of practicing medicine again." Lydia reached over and placed her hand on House's shoulder.

"I'm afraid that correctly sums it up," Wilson said ruefully. "Let's face it: it's not likely that you won't solve it."

"What are you going to do for oncology?" There was silence on the phone. "Wilson?"

"I was going to ask if I could tag along and be a fifth wheel on the case. I don't pretend to understand how you think and how you make the connections you do, but if they see me as part of the group that helped this kid, maybe they'll look a little more kindly on the pitch I'll make for my department when the time comes." House nodded.

"You do realize you may be joining a dinghy with a slow leak."

"If you're the captain I'll take my chances." Managing a smile, House lay down on the bed and drummed his fingers on his chest.

"OK, get a hold of the dirtbag, which would be Davidson. Tell him to get a hold of Mr. and Mrs. Scumbag, that would be the parents and tell them to send over the kid's medical files in advance of them bringing the little tyke in. That way the team can look it over so we know what we're dealing with. He wasn't any more specific than a genetic disorder? That could mean anything up to and including that the dear child is simply butt-ugly." Wilson laughed.

"I think it's a little more than that." House sat back up.

"What real estate agency are you using?" House said to Lydia.

"Gateway, and I have to meet Annie there at 11:30." Rapping his knuckles silently on the bed, House pondered how to approach things.

"Meet us at Gateway at 11:30 and bring the key to the storage unit." he said addressing Wilson. "If the realtor is running on time, I might be able to go with you to see the apartment," House said reaching over for Lydia's hand. "Wilson, you come with us and when everything is done, you and I can go back to the hospital to prepare for battle."

"Sounds good. I'll see you in a little while."

"James?" said Lydia. "Thank you so much for your help."

"My pleasure. Being able to do something nice for you puts a slightly positive spin on what's been a lousy morning. See you both later." House reached over and hung up the phone. He looked around the room, trying to focus on something so he could calm down. He didn't want to look at Lydia at the moment; he knew he would see the pity in her eyes and pity was the last thing he needed right now. He felt her pull her hand away from his and move in closer to him. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and ran the fingers of her other hand down his cheek.

"You know you'll figure the case out. Like Wilson said, you think in ways that no one else does. That's why you're sought out for help." House glanced over at Lydia.

"I'm used to going into a case blind; you never know what the problem is until they're wheeled through the door. But this time, I almost feel like I'm being set up to fail." He took a deep breath. "At least I was right about Wilson still having the storage unit." Lydia nodded.

"Yes at least that's one less thing and one less expense I have to worry about." Staring off into space, House moved backward on the bed until he was resting against his pillows.

"Come here," he said. Lydia moved back to join him.

"I've been thinking. Donald Trump and Bill Gates aren't exactly looking over their shoulders, worried I'm going to pass them by. But I'm more than comfortable financially." House said. "I've lived in the same place, with the same furniture, driven the same car; my motorcycle, my flat screen TV and my i-Pod are probably the biggest purchases I've made in the past ten years." He paused. "I know that being supportive is about more than buying material things and spreading money around, but…I don't want to see you worrying and struggling over money. Not when I can do something about it." Lydia sat up straight and started shaking her head.

"No, Greg, no…"

"I want you to find a decent place to live, have a decent car to drive the kids around in so that you have peace of mind and if money is the way that I can help you..."

"Greg, I love you so much and I am so touched that you would want to do this for me, but I have to do this myself. I'm the one who decided to leave and come back here. It's my responsibility." House sat up.

"And you decided to leave and come back here largely because of me. I know I didn't do anything to directly influence your decision, but I was still a part of it." He reached over and took her hand. "Besides, you've done nothing but take care of things by yourself. Your parents, Annie, even your kids. From what you've told me you were married and a single mom all at the same time." House saw that Lydia began to tear up. House wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. She began crying very softly.

"I don't know how soon I could pay you back. I mean I don't even have a job yet."

"I already thought about that." He sat back and looked into her eyes. "Generosity of spirit is not something that's really prominent on my GPS of life. You'll have to be patient, but I would really appreciate it if you'd show me the way. I think we'd be able to call things even." Lydia managed to smile through her tears.

"I'm not good with modern technology, but I could teach you to read a map." House laughed.

"You've got a deal." They both leaned forward until their lips met in a kiss. Every time Lydia went to move back, House moved in until she fell over on her side giggling. "You know, you're very wise to take me up on my offer. If you ask around, most people would say I'm a tightwad."

"Yes, I got that impression back at Otto's. When you were talking to Wilson on the phone as we were leaving, he seemed shocked that you were paying the bill."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to make a good first impression."

"You made your first impression on me back at Mayfield." House nodded.

"And yet, here we are." He nuzzled his face into her neck and began kissing her.

"Greg, we have to get going. It's already almost 9:30." House turned and glanced at the clock.

"Didn't I tell you? That clock's an hour fast." He started kissing her again.

"It…mmm…is…mmm…not," Lydia said in between kisses. She reached up and placed her hands on House's shoulders and stiffened her arms.

"Doctor Gregory House, you are an ELF" House looked puzzled.

"Why are you talking about the guy in the red suit again?" Lydia shook her head.

"I'm not. ELF stands for Evil Little Fiend."

"Well, you, Lydia Strohman Harris are a B.B.B.," he retorted. She looked at him quizzically. "A Beautiful Bavarian Bombshell. And I love you."

"I love you, too. Now please hand me the t-shirt you were wearing yesterday." House moved over to the edge of the bed, reached down and retrieved the shirt.

"Why do you want this?" he asked as he handed it to her.

"Because," she said as she put the shirt on, "I'm not going to stand in the kitchen and cook breakfast naked." Lydia gave House a kiss as she got up and headed to the door.

"Aw, the food would taste so much better if you did." She stopped, turned and put her hand on her hip.

"How do you like you eggs?"

"Over easy. I'll take two with some toast and coffee."

"OK, I'll get things started while you take a shower." She walked out into the hallway.

"Actually I'm a practitioner of water conservation," House called after her. She poked her head around the corner of the doorway looking confused. "I'll explain it after breakfast." Lydia shook her head as she left for kitchen.

House smiled; he was quite sure that Lydia had no idea that his version of water conservation was taking a shower together.


	2. Chapter 2

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Two-"Setting the Stage"

By: Purpleu

House and Lydia held hands as they walked down Lancaster Street toward Gateway Realty. They had to park several blocks away as the office was near the site of the crane collapse and many streets in the area were still closed off. Lydia was walking at a brisk pace; House had some trouble keeping up. For all their joking about him overusing his leg last night, it was bothering him more than usual this morning. Lydia tried to get him to stay home and she would send Wilson over to pick him up, but House would hear none of it. He wanted to try and support her as best he could; there was just one thing he couldn't do…

"Hey, Speedy Gonzales. Will you slow down? They give tickets for speed walking as well as jaywalking in this town." Lydia stopped.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah; I just didn't count on adding in the hundred meter dash to the decathlons I participated in."

"I'm sorry; I'm just so anxious to get there and see the place. I really want this one to work out." House moved close to her and gave her a gentle kiss.

"Stop worrying. If this one doesn't work out the next one will. You're not going to be out on the street and homeless. I'll make sure of that." Lydia tilted her head to the side and looked at House with gratitude.

"I know you will." She gave his hand a squeeze and started walking again at a slower pace. "I also don't want to keep Annie standing there for too long. She's doing well with her therapy, but she is still very uncomfortable around people she doesn't know. She's been dealing with this real estate agent for a few weeks now, but I'm afraid if James gets there before us and he tries to talk to her, it might freak her out a bit." House glanced over at Lydia with a smirk.

"Wilson is one of the least threatening people on the planet. If anything, he'll wind up ignoring her; he's got too much on his mind right now." They approached the end of the block and started to cross the street, when a loud sound came from their right. Lydia was startled and House noticed the saw horses blocking off the road. He shifted his gazed upward toward what remained of the block. York Street still looked like a shambles as buildings from both sides of the street were being torn down due to the damage from falling debris. He stopped midway across and stared in a daze at the sight. Images from that night flooded his brain, both real and imaginary. House closed his eyes, trying to make them go away; but they remained until Lydia spoke.

"Greg?" He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. "Let's move onto the sidewalk." House nodded and walked silently with her to the other side of the street. He stopped and leaned back against the building on the corner and stared down at the ground.

"Do you want to find a place to sit down?" Lydia asked.

"No, what I want is a way to erase that night from my mind," House snapped. "I'm responsible for one person's death and a person I've known for over twenty years is nothing more than a….turnip with hair and breasts because of me." He shook his head and refused to look at Lydia.

"There is a bench by the bus stop. We are going over there and sitting down," Lydia said firmly.

"No, you have to get things going with the realtor and meet up with Annie. Wilson's probably eaten her for lunch by now." Lydia smiled, took House by the hand and led him toward the bench.

"Lydia…" he began to protest. They arrived at the bench.

"Sit," she said, slightly pushing him downward. He complied and she sat down next to him. "I was worried that bringing you down here might upset you; I'm glad I'm with you rather than you dealing with it alone." She reached over and gently rubbed his back. "Greg, you know you were not responsible for that woman's death and for Cuddy's injuries. Yes, I know you could have gotten that woman out of there sooner if you had talked her into cutting off her leg. But, she didn't want that, right?"

"No; she begged me not to let them do it." Lydia nodded.

"And you weren't even conscious when Cuddy went down into the rubble pile; you were incapable of stopping her. Sometimes it's a matter of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time." House let out a sigh.

"I just feel there's something I could have done. And it doesn't help that Cuddy and I were arguing right before the second collapse." Lydia gave him a wry smile.

"From what you've told me, that's nothing new." House managed a smile.

"True. We went more rounds than Mohammed Ali did in his entire boxing career." He looked at Lydia. "I'm sorry. It's the first time I've seen the aftermath of the collapse and I felt like someone was dancing on my grave when I looked at it. I… shouldn't have yelled at you."

"You weren't yelling at me, you were yelling in my presence. There's a difference." She looked at her watch. "We'd better go." They stood up and House hesitated for a moment.

"Thank you," he said. Lydia smiled.

"You're welcome." House gave her a kiss and turned to start walking. He waited till Lydia stepped next to him and he put his arm around her.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Eleven twenty. We've got enough time."

"We would have had even more if you hadn't taken so long in the shower." Lydia turned and shot House a look.

"You mean if _we_ hadn't taken so long in the shower. Water conservation _mein_ _arsch._" House stopped walking.

"Hey, hey; watch your language, young lady. You forget how much of your native tongue I know. I'm aware of what you just said." Lydia shrugged.

"I'm just trying to work on my bad girl image." House smiled.

"You did fine with that last night." Lydia giggled as they rounded the corner.

"Well, you were a big help…" Lydia had stopped walking. Her eyes were open wide, staring in amazment. "I don't believe it." House looked down the street to see what she was staring at. His eyes widened, too.

"I guess you worried for nothing," House said. Standing in front of Gateway Realtors were Wilson and Annie. Far from looking uncomfortable, Annie was animatedly talking, obviously telling Wilson a story that had him laughing heartily. Lydia just stood there shaking her head.

"What's the matter? Isn't she allowed to talk to strangers?" House asked.

"Greg, you don't understand. If a waiter came over to take our order, she'd have me do it for her; she couldn't bring herself to talk to them. If we were walking down a crowded street or in the mall and someone bumped into her, she would just freeze up and need to sit down." Lydia put her hand up to her mouth. "This…is…wonderful!" The joy she felt was clear on her face and it made House smile.

"I hate to break up their little chit chat session, but if we stand any chance of seeing this place together, we've got to move." He took her hand and they started to walk toward the realty office. As House and Lydia got closer, they could hear the conversation.

"…then the woman yelled out, 'Linoleum, Formica, get over here'," Annie said.

"What?" asked Wilson. Annie nodded.

"I couldn't help but stare at her. When she saw I was looking at her, I said, 'Those are very…unusual names.' And she said, 'Well that's where they were conceived, so that's what I named them'". Wilson just looked at Annie, dumbfounded.

"Oh…my …what did you say?"

"Where's Kitchen Table and Chair?" offered House. Annie and Wilson turned to see House and Lydia standing nearby.

"Hey, sweetie," said Annie as she hugged Lydia. House looked over at Wilson who was grinning ear to ear. He was trying to catch Wilson's attention, but Wilson was too busy looking at Annie. House became aware that Annie had finished hugging Lydia and had turned to him.

"Hi, Greg. It's so good to see you again." She reached out and gave him a hug. Normally House would be uncomfortable with any kind of display of affection, but in Annie's case, he was willing to make an exception.

"Chatty Cathy, my favorite cellist." Annie laughed and looked up at him.

"I have a feeling I'm the only cellist you know." House nodded.

"That's what makes it easy to pick my favorite." Lydia smiled at the scene; seeing two of the most important people in her life laughing and joking around made her feel so good. She turned to her left and saw Wilson watching the pair. She very casually moved over until she was standing next to him as Annie and House continued to talked

"Greg got very upset when he saw the accident scene," Lydia said, barely moving her lips. Wilson glanced over at her.

"I'm not surprised. He blamed himself for Hannah and Cuddy?" Wilson asked also talking quietly. Lydia nodded. "I'll keep an eye on him today."

"Thank you," said Lydia gratefully. Annie and House walked over.

"Ready to take a look at our new place?" asked Annie.

"Let's hope," said Lydia. Wilson pushed on the door to the office and held it open for the group. Lydia and Annie walked over to a desk and sat down, waiting for the agent. Wilson hung back by the door and House with him.

"How are you doing?" asked Wilson. House kept a blank look on his face.

"Fine."

"You sure?" House became annoyed.

"Yeah; I'd be better if you'd stop assuming something was wrong. Oh, and congratulations on your first miracle." Wilson looked at him quizzically. "I'll explain it later." They walked forward and joined Annie and Lydia at the desk as the realtor arrived.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, ladies." The realtor looked at House and Wilson. "And who are these gentlemen?"

"This is my boyfriend, Dr. Gregory House and this is our friend, Dr. James Wilson," said Lydia indicating the two.

"Well, hi. I'm Stella Hanford and hopefully I'm going to be settling these two lovely ladies into their new digs." House wondered how many happy pills she had to take each morning to attain that false level of perkiness.

"Are you ready to head out to the house?" Stella asked.

"The sooner the better," said House.

"Good. Ladies, why don't you join me in my car; I assume you gentlemen have a car as well?"

"Yes, we do," Wilson said. "I'm parked on Manchester."

"Fine, I own the black Volvo just down the block. I'll pass your way and you can just fall in behind me."

"What's the address in case we break the conga line?" asked House.

"Three twenty-seven Peachtree Lane, about four blocks down from the intersection of Woodfield and Chestnut Streets," Stella said. Wilson nodded.

"I'm familiar with the area." He turned to House. "Want to start walking to the car?"

"Probably a good idea," House said. He walked forward a step and put his hand on Lydia's shoulder. "I'll see you over there." He leaned down and gave her a kiss.

"Bye," she said. He looked at Annie.

"Calm down Nervous Nelly here, would you?" House asked. Annie laughed.

"I'll take care of her." House turned and started to walk to the door; after saying his goodbyes, Wilson followed. They made a right after exiting the realtors and walked down the block toward Wilson's car. House was just waiting for Wilson to go off about Annie. He didn't have to wait very long.

"Wow, Annie is …delightful; she's a doll. Why didn't you tell me she was so attractive and intelligent?" asked Wilson.

"Because you'd start doing exactly what you're doing right now; planning for wedding number four." Wilson rolled his eyes.

"I'm not doing any such thing. I just met the woman."

"And you've already managed to get someone who hadn't spoken in over a decade to turn into a talking parrot."

"Is that what you were referring to when you said something about performing a miracle?" House nodded.

"Lydia told me Annie can't even talk to a waiter to order her own food and suddenly she's regaling you with a stand-up routine. I'd call that pretty amazing." They arrived at the car; Wilson hit the clicker to open the doors.

"What the hell happened to her?" House opened the door and got in the car; Wilson did the same.

"I'll tell you both of their stories on the way to the house. Right now, we've got company," said House as he glanced in the rear view mirror. A second later, Stella pulled up next to them with the passenger side window down.

"Just follow me," she said cheerfully. Wilson nodded, put on his indicator and pulled out behind her. He glanced over at House who was staring out the side window. They were passing by the other end of York Street and House felt a chill go through his body as they drove by. Wilson was going to ask him if he was OK, but at this point, he knew better.

"Lydia and Annie are probably two of the most remarkable women, the most remarkable people, I've ever met," House said quietly. "To have dealt with the crap life has thrown at them…."

"Why don't you start their stories from the beginning so I know what you're talking about?" House started with Lydia; how she had traveled around the world with her parents while her father was in the diplomatic corps, how strict her parents were, dictating every detail of her life. The car accident that forced Lydia to leave school and become nursemaid to her parents was next on the list. First her father dying, then her mother and then just months after her mother's death, Annie being robbed, beaten and raped by her boyfriend and his buddies. How the threat against Lydia from the boyfriend frightened Annie so, that she didn't speak for over ten years to protect her. Lydia marrying Annie's brother, out of loneliness, not love. Finally, the significance of the music box and how he and Freedom Master were able to give it to Annie, allowing her to regain her voice. When he finished, House looked at Wilson to check his reaction. Oddly, there appeared to be none.

"Wilson?"

"Unbelievable. My God, what the two of them have been through. And Lydia went to visit her almost every day, for all of those years?" House nodded.

"Five times a week. She'd sit and talk to her, play the piano for her…"

"Did I hear you say something to Annie about the cello?" asked Wilson.

"She used to play with the Philadelphia Philharmonic. She plays beautifully."

"When did you hear her play?"

"When she came out of the aphasic state, she asked for Lydia. They phoned her to come in right away, but didn't tell her what had happened. She had brought Annie's cello to her a while before that, hoping that she would respond to it. Annie saw it standing in the corner of the rec room while we were waiting for Lydia to arrive and she responded, alright." House shook his head. "It was like she had never stopped playing. Lydia came off the elevator and I was waiting there; I took her hand and led her into the room where Annie was playing." House leaned his head back against the seat and smiled. "I'll never forget the look Lydia had on her face: pure joy. Kind of like the way she looked last night and this morning."

"OK," Wilson said quickly, "OK, no locker room talk. I don't want to know." There was silence for a moment. "Is that why your leg is bothering you so much today? I saw the way you were walking." House started chuckling.

"I knew your curiosity would get the better of you."

"I'm not asking for the gory details," Wilson said as he changed lanes to keep up with Stella. "I just think you should have known better than to try a second or third round since you're a little out of practice."

"I would have been fine with a second or third; it was the fourth and fifth that did me in."

"Fourth…yeah, right," said Wilson smirking. He looked over at House. House was returning his look with a serene smile on his face.

"You're serious. What…did you get some little blue pills from the pharmacy or something?" House shook his head.

"Nope; I got Lydia." Wilson stared wide-eyed straight ahead of him as he put on the indicator to turn on to Peachtree Lane. House looked at the surroundings; it seemed to be a typical suburban street. He glanced over at Wilson who was still staring straight ahead.

"They're best friends, not sisters, so get that thought out of your head."

"What thought?"

"That Annie might wind up having the same effect on you through some inherited genetic trait." Wilson continued looking ahead very intently.

"She's already having an effect on me." House looked at him.

"Damn. Wilson, be careful. She's got more baggage to deal with than the Kardashians on a month long trip," he warned.

"House, who in this world doesn't have baggage? Some more than others. You ought to know that." House made a face. "I would just like to get to know her. I'm not making any long term plans. A little companionship with someone whose voice is an octave or two higher than mine, would be nice." House had forgotten that it had been awhile since Wilson dated anyone, or even went out on a single date for that matter.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," House advised. He looked out the window. "We seemed to have arrived." Stella had pulled her car into the driveway of the house and Wilson parked his car at the curb. The house looked nice from the outside; it was neatly landscaped with hedges lining the front walk, beige siding on the top half, red brick on the bottom and an attached garage. It appeared to be a split level ranch. White vinyl fencing surrounded the property; safe for the kiddlings thought House. The only thing that concerned him was the narrow, steep concrete steps leading to the front door. He and Wilson made their way up the driveway.

"So, yes the heat is included, but not the water, electric or gas," said Stella as she climbed the steps and opened the door. "And here we are!" House was painfully making his way up the stairs when Lydia turned to say something and saw the concern on Wilson's face and the pain on House's.

"Are you OK?" she asked quietly.

"Never better," he said. Lydia and Wilson exchanged looks which House caught sight of. "Don't you two go all Starsky and Hutch and gang up on me." He looked at Lydia. "See if we can get the abridged version of the tour, at least for me. I have a feeling Wilson and I are going to have to get out of here soon. I need to go find out what I'm dealing with in reference to the snake charmer's kid." Lydia nodded.

"She's the real Chatty Cathy," Lydia said quietly. "But I'll get things moving."

"The house lacks any furniture as the previous tenant moved out about three weeks ago, but I think …"

"Stella, could the four of us," Lydia said indicating herself, Annie, House and Wilson, "just do a quick walk through and then you can go into detail with Annie and me? They," Lydia said pointing at House and Wilson, "need to get back to the hospital."

"Of course," said Stella. She turned to House and Wilson. "Princeton-Plainsboro?"

"Yes," said Wilson. "I'm the head of oncology and Dr. House the head of diagnostics."

"And all around upstanding citizen and honorary Boy Scout," chimed in House. Wilson rolled his eyes and Lydia and Annie did everything they could to keep from laughing.

"Oh, well, how nice," Stella said hesitantly. Her cell phone began to ring. "I'm sorry, I have to take this," she said as she looked at the phone. "Take a look around and I'll be right back in." She walked quickly down the stairs and out the front door.

"Let's do the two cent tour so Wilson and I can hit the road," said House. To their left at the top of the stairs was the living room with a large bay window. The room itself was a good size, as was the dining room and kitchen. Off the dining room, through sliding glass doors, was a deck overlooking the backyard which also was substantial in size. The group walked through the kitchen, back to the top of the stairs and made a left down a hall which led to a bathroom with a double sink, two medium sized bedrooms and a large master bedroom and bath.

"This is beautiful," said Lydia, "and more than enough room."

"It's great; one bedroom for each kid, a big backyard. And I checked it out," Annie said, "this is the school district you preferred." Lydia smiled.

"Let's go check out your part of the house." As Annie and Lydia started toward the stairs, Wilson spoke up.

"I hate to be a party pooper, but we really have to get going," he said. House walked over to Lydia.

"I'm sorry; this isn't the way I wanted things to go."

"It's OK; I understand. What do you think?" Lydia said indicating the apartment. House took a quick glance around.

"I think I see that you look incredibly happy. So, if this place meets with CC's approval, I'd say go for it."

"CC?" questioned Lydia. Annie started giggling.

"Chatty Cathy," she said. Lydia shook her head.

"Oh, before I forget," said Wilson, "here's the key to the storage locker at U-Store-It, number 216. It's right off Route 32; you can see it from the road."

"Thank you, so much, James. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this." She stepped over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Wilson was clearly flustered; House was clearly jealous.

"No problem," Wilson said glancing over at Annie, "glad I could help." House cleared his throat.

"Now it's time for you to appreciate me. Here's the key to my place. Whatever doesn't fit in the storage unit put there. Text me later and let me know how things go with this," House said indicating the apartment, "and the moving guys. I'll call you back when I can." Lydia held the key to his apartment up.

"Are you sure about this?" House thought for a moment.

"Eh, maybe you're right, it's a bad idea." He snatched the key out Lydia's hand and headed for the stairs. Lydia stood with her mouth open in surprise. House turned to her, imitated her expression and then dropped the key down the front of her blouse.

"Greg!" she shrieked. He started to walk down the stairs.

"I'd help you look for it, but then we'd never get out of here." He went back up one step so he was even with Lydia and gave her a kiss.

"I love you." House turned, walked down the stairs and out the door. Annie was laughing so hard, she had to lean against a wall and slid half way down into a crouching position.

"I love you, too, I think," Lydia called out after him.

"Ha! You know you do," House shouted from outside. Wilson shook his head.

"I'm so very sorry," Wilson said, "but I have no control over him, whatsoever." He turned to Lydia. "Are you sure about this?" he asked indicating her and House. "I mean, are you sure you can handle him?" Wilson noticed that Lydia was rolling her shoulders and moving her upper torso from side to side. A moment later, House's key fell to the floor. Wilson's eyes opened wide in shock. Lydia bent down and picked up the key.

"Oh, yes," she said smiling, "I'm very sure." Annie continued to roar with laughter while Wilson stood there speechless.

"Well, then…I guess…I…I'm going to head out now," he said slowly heading for the stairs. The sound of a blaring horn pierced the air.

"Hey Wilson; quit making time with my girl and get one of your own." Wilson quickened his pace.

"Good luck with everything here," said Wilson.

"Thank you; and good luck to you, too." Lydia said. Wilson tilted his head to the side.

"Even with House as our fearless leader, I think we're going to need it this time." Annie and Lydia looked at him sympathetically. "Bye, ladies. Nice to meet you," he said to Annie.

"Nice to meet you, too," Annie said quietly as Wilson headed out the door. "Really nice."


	3. Chapter 3

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Three- "Putting on a Show"

By: Purpleu

Wilson walked toward House who was leaning against the car; while House was smiling, he was not.

"You know, you really shouldn't leave the windows down. Never know when it's going to start raining," said House as he watched Wilson walk around to the driver's side.

"Yes, I hear the forecast is calling for sheer and utter lunacy perpetrated by a self -absorbed, mindless jerk," responded Wilson.

"What, just because I was being playful with my girlfriend and wanted to make sure you weren't trying to get in on the action? Besides, we do have to get going; or did you forget that I'm the self-absorbed, mindless jerk who's going to help you save the biggest draw for the hospital, not to mention your department?" Wilson sighed; he pushed the clicker to open the car doors. He knew House was right; as self-centered as House could be, he was going to help Wilson out with his dealings with the Hunters. House looked up at the bay window as the car pulled away from the curb. He saw Lydia standing there, smiling as she waved good-bye. Returning her smile and gesture, House still had trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that this little domestic scene was normal, something that people do all the time. He sighed; hopefully Lydia had an inordinate amount of patience.

"Route 58 is only a few blocks away. I'm going to hop on that; it'll be the fastest way to the hospital," Wilson said. "I see what you mean about Annie having issues. You and Lydia were going from one bedroom to another and as Annie passed by me, I simply put my hand on her upper back; she froze and then pulled away from me. She wouldn't look at me again until you started joking around when we were ready to leave."

"It's going to take some time," noted House as he looked out the window. "The SOB that made her like this, she met on the rebound. She had been dating someone for three years; when that went sour, she met this louse. They hadn't been dating long when he and his buddies attacked her." Wilson shook his head.

"She's so nice; I can't imagine how anyone could hurt her as viscously as they did."

"She has the James Wilson personality flaw," said House, "She sees a hurt puppy by the side of the road and she immediately takes it home to care for it." Wilson shot House a look. "This guy handed her a line, and she fell for it." Wilson drew a deep breath.

"I would just…really like to get to know her. She seems to be someone special; I think you'd have to be to survive what she went through. I just don't want to hurt her in the process."

"If you need any help, ask Lydia; she's got a pretty good handle on the situation. Although you really surprised her today when we saw that Annie wasn't keeping you away with a whip and chair." House looked over at Wilson. "I think you meet with Lydia's approval." Wilson glanced at House as he put on his indicator and got on the entrance ramp for the highway.

"You mean I'm allowed to talk to your girlfriend? I'm honored."

"As long as you're talking to her and not flirting with her, everything will be fine." Wilson laughed.

"Why are you so hung up on the notion that I might flirt a little with Lydia? You know I don't mean anything by it and I'm sure she knows that, too. You usually don't care if I show any interest in the same woman as you. With a few exceptions." House nodded.

"True, but that's because the women have been hookers. With them, there's always the next guy; I never cared whether it was you or someone else." Wilson rolled his eyes.

"I have met a couple of your …'companions' shall we say. However hot looking they were, I wouldn't touch them with a ten foot pole."

"That's because you don't have a ten foot pole," House shot back quickly. Wilson opened his mouth to say something, then just closed it and laughed as he realized House was laughing, too.

"You know, I have to get used to this," Wilson said. "You are the least miserable I have ever seen you in the entire time we've known each other." House frowned.

"Yeah, and I don't know what to do with it." Wilson was exasperated.

"Enjoy it! You've managed to find someone who had a similar childhood and background to yours, can relate to some of the problems you had with isolation and loneliness and trust; and while she handled them in a way that inflicted less damage on herself…honestly, it was still kind of screwed up for her to marry under the circumstances she did." Wilson looked over his shoulder to move to the exit lane. "You both have your issues, but she's willing to help you with yours. As long as you can do the same for her, you've got a pretty good formula for success." As Wilson left the highway, House noticed the blue 'H' signs indicating the way to the hospital. He realized it would be a good idea to move out of personal mode and into a work state of mind.

"Diving into the belly of the beast, do we know anything at all about this kid we're supposed to be working a miracle on?" asked House.

"The medical files arrived just before I left to meet you. All the tests in there are at least a year old. It seems the Hunters were involved in a relatively minor car accident right after their son turned three. He was in his car seat in the back and was somehow 'thrown'," Wilson said with more than a little sarcasm, "out of the seat and onto the floor of the car." House smirked.

"The kid probably figured out how to unbuckle the strap. Did he get hurt?"

"Bumped his head on the cup holder on the back of the middle console. X-rays revealed a hairline fracture above the right temple. MRI and CAT scans were completely clear." House looked at Wilson incredulously.

"They did an MRI and CAT scan because the kid had a hairline fracture?"

"Remember whose son we're talking about," said Wilson, "And they didn't do the tests right away. The boy kept complaining that his head hurt, so they brought him back to the hospital about a week later and insisted on the tests."

"Which showed nothing."

"Yeah; so Hunter comes up with the idea to sue everybody claiming PTSD." House shook his head in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me? Post-Traumatic stress in a three year old? What sushi-brained jury bought into that?" Wilson gave a little laugh.

"The one that sided with him against the car seat manufacturer and the driver of the other car. The guy who was driving was at fault; but like I said before, an exaggerated fender bender. He owned a small business; notice I said owned as in the past tense." Wilson put on his indicator to turn into the hospital parking lot. "His life completely fell apart when he lost the lawsuit and he tried to commit suicide, only he failed. He's brain damaged and living in a nursing facility."

"He probably has the room next to Cuddy," said House wryly. Wilson made a face and was going to comment, but he decided to let it go for now. He turned and headed for his parking spot. House was going to tell him to pull into his spot by the door, but he was too preoccupied thinking about what he and the team were getting into. "How do you know about who the viper went after?"

"Foreman gave a call to Dr. Murphy over at St. James Hospital in New York once we got the file. His advice was to decline taking the case at all costs." Wilson pulled into his parking space, put up the windows and shut off the car. "When Foreman told him we had no choice but to deal with it, he said he'd keep us in his prayers."

"Like that's really going to help," House said as he got out of the car. "What diagnosis did the doctors at St. James give them? And why do they think it's wrong?" Wilson closed the door of the car.

"Hunter pressured them into giving PTSD as the official diagnosis so he could have some basis for his lawsuit. He was filing one to start with over the accident itself against the driver and the car seat manufacturer, claiming negligence. When his son started to display all of these problems, he increased the award he sought for punitive damages based on the diagnosis of Post-Traumatic stress."

"Which worked fine until mumsy and da-da realized that a phony illness still had real complications," House noted as they walked toward the hospital entrance. "What is the kid doing that freaks them out so much?"

"I really don't know. I only had a chance to look at so much of the chart before I came to meet you. Hopefully when we get upstairs, your team can fill…" Wilson stopped talking as House grabbed his arm and pulled him off the walkway.

"I think our patient has arrived early." Wilson looked over to the roadway by the entrance and saw that a black limousine had pulled up by the front door. The driver stepped out and went around to the back. As he opened the door, a flurry of activity and noise came from that direction.

"Tyler, no! Grab him!" Tyler, the six year old son of Jeanne and Malcolm Hunter, had bolted out of the car and was running around on the sidewalk, flapping his hands rapidly up and down, like a bird trying to take flight, a huge smile, ear to ear, frozen on his face. He was a blur of movement, running up to passers-by and trying to hug them, all while eluding the efforts of the limo driver to snag him. Mr. and Mrs. Hunter piled out of the car and joined in the efforts to rein in their son.

"Tyler, Tyler, come to Mommy; Mommy will give you a hug. Come here, baby," Mrs. Hunter pleaded. Mr. Hunter took a different approach.

"Tyler, stop; stop right now. This is unacceptable and you know it. Tyler get over here," his father called out and after a minute, Tyler finally did go over to his father. He ran full tilt at him and head butted him in the groin. House and Wilson both grimaced as Hunter double over in pain. He made an attempt to grab his son and managed to get a hold of his arm, something Tyler did not like at all. He had been silent until now, but suddenly began to make a sound that could best be described as a dying siren on a fire truck. Tyler also started to rapidly and repeatedly hit his father.

"Grab him!" Hunter screamed at his wife and the driver. The two had been standing off to the side, trying to figure out the best way to contain the boy without incurring his wrath.

"I see the child does have some redeeming qualities," commented House. Wilson simply stared in amazement. Just then, the boy suddenly stopped hitting his father and squirmed out of his grasp. Continuing with his flapping hand movements, Tyler quickly ran over to the fountain in the plaza in front of the hospital. His wailing turned to low hum and he began to poke his fingers into the water, one at a time, examining each one after they became wet. Mrs. Hunter came up behind him slowly and quietly, not wanting to disturb the calm that her son seemed to have achieved. She crouched down, reached inside a large bag she was carrying on her shoulder and pulled out a plastic water bottle.

"Tyler?" she said softly, "Look what Mommy has for you. Water. A water bottle." Tyler turned away from the fountain and took the bottle from his mother. He turned it one way and then the other, watching the water flow within the container. Mrs. Hunter stood up and took Tyler by the hand.

"I'm going to take him inside and get him changed," she said, not looking at her husband. She turned and slowly walked with her son into the hospital, ignoring the stares of people who had stopped to watch the scene.

"I'll be right in," Mr. Hunter called out. House and Wilson watched as Hunter began to yell at the limo driver for not being more helpful with his son.

"House, let's get up to your office. The fact that she has to change the kid's clothes, will give us some more time to look at the file." Wilson glanced over his shoulder. "Let's take the west entrance." As he started to walk away, he noticed House hadn't moved; he was still watching Malcolm Hunter berate the limo driver, reducing him to a lump of flesh with slouched shoulders and a drooping head.

"House?" He turned to look at Wilson.

"Sorry; just experiencing some déjà vu." House turned and walked with Wilson to the side entrance of the hospital. Yeah, House said to himself as he entered the building; someone is still doing the Macarena on his grave.

Wilson and House took the elevator up to House's office. Chase, Taub, Thirteen and Foreman were all in the conference room, pouring over the records the Hunters had sent over. The paper work had been sorted out into piles; each team member had at least one pile in front of them. House's gut instinct told him that whatever it is that the kid has, it's not going to go away with a little pill or even a bunch of little pills. If it can be treated, it was going to need a pill the size of Cleveland.

"Since I'm officially out on medical leave, please tell me that you have solved the case of the imaginary illness plaguing our all too real patient so I can get out of here and get back to doing the horizontal hustle with my girlfriend," House said as he entered the room and sat down at the head of the conference table.

"In your dreams and not even there," said Chase. House shot him a look. "Sorry, but this case is just so bizarre."

"You'd find it even more bizarre if you saw what we just did by the entrance to the hospital," said Wilson. "The Hunters arrived early with their son. As soon as the car stopped, the kid jumped out and ran in circles on the sidewalk. He responded to neither his mother nor his father. When he did go near his father, he barreled head first into the dad's groin."

"It left quite an impression, said House, "And I'm not talking about the size of the kid's cranium." Thirteen looked down at the table and put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. The men in the room just shook their heads and squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm on your side," House said to Thirteen. "I thought it was hysterically funny and proved to me that all is not lost with the kid." Thirteen looked around at her colleagues.

"Sorry; knowing who the father is, it almost seems like poetic justice," she said.

"You'd be right," said Wilson with a laugh. He sat down at the table. "It was an unbelievable sight. There were a bunch of strange things happening. Like the kid wanting to play with the fountain all of a sudden seemed odd, to me at least."

"The drinking fountain?" asked Taub.

"No, the fountain in the little plaza just outside the doors. I thought for sure he was going to dive in and get soaked. Instead, he very deliberately got one finger wet at a time. The mother was able to get him to calm down even more when she showed him a half empty water bottle. She convinced him to come inside the hospital and change his clothes; he had calmed down that much." Wilson looked at House. "It didn't seem to me that he got all that wet. I don't see why she had to change him." House was sitting with his arms folded across his chest, staring down at the table.

"She didn't need to. Maybe it was just her way appearing to be the perfect mommy by keeping junior presentable in appearance since he's anything but in his actions."

"Wait a second," said Taub. "Did she say she had to change his clothes or that she had to change _him_?"

"Obviously the little tyke has to change," House said. "It starts with a fountain in a plaza; the next thing it'll be Niagara Falls in a barrel."

"What difference does it make?" Chase asked Taub,

"According to the file, Tyler was potty trained at age two and a half. No Pull-Ups, no accidents. Then, about six weeks after the car accident, he started wetting his bed. It progressed until he lost control of both his bladder and bowel functions. What she had to change before," said Taub in conclusion, "was his diaper."

"The parents couldn't get out of him why he was regressing?" Foreman asked as he poured a cup of coffee. "Nothing about monsters under the bed or anything?"

"It never monsters," said House. "It's always the Boogeyman."

"The kid couldn't tell his parents anything even if he wanted to," said Wilson. "All he was doing when we saw him was making sounds, not words."

"And yet," said Thirteen as she rummaged through the various piles of information from the patient's file. "Here it is; 'Tyler spoke his first word at a year old'," she said, reading from a report. "'From what the parents report, it appears that while he could talk and understand what was said to him, his expressive language was limited.'"

"Maybe the kid just didn't have a lot to say," offered Chase.

"Or the kid was too intimidated. Given the type of personality his father has, he probably figured it was better to just keep quiet and avoid any problems," said Foreman

"I'd keep quiet rather than taking the chance of getting slammed by Malcolm Hunter," Taub said "He brought a case against a friend of mine; I went to court one day, just to show moral support. Saw him make a man on the witness stand cry."

"You know, there was probably a lot of yelling going on when the accident happened. Hunter would be screaming at the other driver, maybe at his wife and kid," Thirteen said. "God only knows how terrified the boy was. Some of this could be attributable to PTSD." House looked over at Wilson and saw that his hands were clenched and he was staring down at the table.

"Post-Traumatic stress in a three year old is not impossible, but highly unlikely," House said. He stood up and began to move about the room. "We're born with only two natural fears: the fear of falling and the fear of loud noises. All other things that give us the heebie-jeebies like spiders, snakes and thought of Justin Bieber reproducing are acquired traits. At three years old, you don't have enough time logged into life to have had that much fear programmed into you."

"Not only that," said Chase, "but some of these behavioral issues are not consistent with being in shock. A person with PTSD would tend to withdraw…"

"Become aphasic," interjected Wilson. House turned quickly to look at him; Wilson was rubbing his forehead, his eyes closed.

"Right," Thirteen said, glancing at Wilson. "The boy is still making sounds as if he's trying to communicate; he just can't."

"Or won't," said Foreman.

The sound of a pager filled the room and everyone looked to see if it was theirs. Foreman was the lucky one. "It's mine. The Hunters are looking for us."

"Boys and girl, it's show time." House addressed Foreman. "Bring them up to pediatric ICU. If they ask why the ICU, tell them it's so we can monitor their son more closely. Make them feel all warm and cashmere-y inside." He looked at Chase, Thirteen and Taub. "Get a fresh set of basic tests from the kid. Blood, urine, X-rays of the head and chest. If they question it, tell them it would be best for their little Sasquatch. I don't expect to find anything new, fun or exciting, but it will kill some time while we consider where the lie in all this is."

"What makes you so sure they're lying?" asked Taub. House spread his arms open wide.

"He's a lawyer." Everyone on the room seemed to give their silent agreement as they stood and moved toward the door.

"House, aren't you coming down?" Foreman asked. "You know he asked for you specifically."

"Of course I'm coming down. Wouldn't miss it for the world," House said sarcastically. "Wilson and I will bring up the rear so I can make my grand entrance." He held his cane handle up to his mouth with the shank of the cane perpendicular to the floor and began to make the sounds of a trumpet fanfare.

"See you down there," Foreman said half laughing as he and the team left. House put down his cane and turned to look at Wilson. He was drumming the fingers of one hand on the table while the other rested on his head. House walked over until he was standing directly above Wilson.

"Rule number one if you want to work with my team is to leave any personal attachments out of the analysis of the case." Wilson looked up at House.

"What are you talking about?" House walked back to the head of the table and sat down.

"You're sitting there seeing some oblique analogy between this kid and what Annie went through. Any similarities, if they even exist, are so slight that there's nothing to be gained by taking note of them. You will, however, skewer your thinking and possibly that of my team; I won't allow that." Wilson looked over at him.

"You'd throw me off the case for the sake of your team?" House made a face.

"As much as I hate to admit this, I'd do for your own sake, too. Don't make Annie have to push you away. I've found that people have a hard time forgiving you for that." Wilson nodded.

"Thanks." House stood up and as he turned to walk toward the door, his cell phone buzzed with a text message. He pulled out the phone and flipped it open to read it.

"It's from Lydia; they're taking the house. They faxed the lease and their credit reports to the owner, he approved them and they are set to go."

"Fantastic," said Wilson. "We have a minute, why don't you give her a quick call?"

"You were reading my mind," said House as he hit speed dial. He put the phone up to his ear; it rang three times before Lydia picked up. He could hear her laughing before she even spoke.

"When did you have time to make my phone say ELF when you call?" she asked.

"When you were busy cooking breakfast. I had to make myself useful somehow. Congratulations on your new living quarters."

"Thank you. I am so excited. This is the first place I have ever lived that I picked out for myself, that I had some input into the decision making process. I feel like a grown-up."

"You've been a grown-up for a long time now. You just never had tangible confirmation of that fact. How does Annie like it?" Wilson had gone over to the coffee machine to get a cup, but moved nearer to House at the sound of Annie's name.

"Her place downstairs is lovely; a bit smaller since she has the attached garage at her level, but there are still three bedrooms, a living room/dining room combo and a breakfast bar in the kitchen." House smiled.

"Martha Stewart would be thrilled," he said. "Listen, this case is probably going to take up a lot of my time, in the next few days at least. I wanted to try and help with some things, but I don't know…"

"Greg, don't worry about it. I'll manage. I always have."

"Yeah, but I didn't want you doing this alone," he said as he started to pace around the room.

"You'll be there in spirit. At least I know I have that. Do you think you'll make it home tonight?"

"I hope so. My bed is a hell of a lot more comfortable than anything here. And the company is better, too." Lydia laughed. "Why don't you stay at my place tonight rather than go back to your friend's house? That way when I do get home, at least we can go to bed before we go to sleep." There was silence for a second.

"You are an ELF. And I love you."

"I love you, too. Bye." House closed his cell phone.

"So, how are they?" asked Wilson. House was startled; he had forgotten that Wilson was in the room.

"They're fine. Annie's section of the house is good. Seems like they're all set."

"Great," Wilson said. House started to walk to the door of the conference room; Wilson stood by the white board looking down at the floor. "You know you're very lucky to have someone like Lydia." House nodded.

"Maybe you'll get lucky, too." Wilson tilted his head to the side in assent.

"Maybe."

"Come on; let's go see what makes this Tasmanian devil tick," said House holding open the conference room door. Wilson walked forward and through the doorway.

"At least we have Wile E. Coyote to help figure it out," he said gesturing in House's direction. House smirked and walked with Wilson toward the elevators. He only wished that this was a cartoon.


	4. Chapter 4

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Four-"Reworking the Script"

By: Purpleu

As the elevator doors closed, Wilson pondered the few facts of the case that they had to work with: the boy was apparently a normal child until approximately six weeks after receiving a minor bump on the head. Now… Wilson turned to look at House. He was staring straight ahead at the panel of buttons that operated the elevator, lost in thought.

"House, could the kid have some form of ADHD? It would be an extreme case, granted, but…"

"There are lots of things it could be; the problem is, the symptoms he's displaying don't meet enough of the criteria for the diagnosis of any one thing. And none of it is caused by a bump on the head or PTSD." Wilson chose his next words carefully.

"Are you sure you don't have something of a personal prejudice or interest in this case? Because I'm picking up on something: you are absolutely refusing to consider that the father is right; that the accident either caused the problem or the stress of the incident did." House smirked.

"If that kid has any stress it's from living with an overly critical ass of a father. I know what that's like."

"Which is my point exactly. You just told me not to color my thinking with personal feelings. Or does that apply to everyone but you?" Wilson asked. House was obviously made uneasy by the question. The elevator doors opened as it arrived at the floor housing pediatric ICU.

"Ask me about that later. Right now I hear our patient." Even though Tyler Hunter's room was furthest away from the bank of elevators, crashing sounds could clearly be heard along with the desperate voices of Mr. and Mrs. Hunter.

"Tyler, please sit down on the bed. Look, look; Mommy brought Thomas," Mrs. Hunter said to her son. "Watch, watch; chug-a-chug-a…no, Tyler, NO!" House and Wilson arrived at the door to the room just in time to see Tyler stand up on the bed and throw himself down onto the mattress and then repeat the action again. He was about to jump once more, when his father grabbed him.

"Tyler, you were told no! Now stop this, stop it at once!" his father commanded. House's team just stood back and watched the scene in silence. House saw the way Thirteen was holding her left wrist and took it to mean that she had been a victim of the boy's outburst. He reached over and opened the door as Mrs. Hunter took Tyler from his father and showed him the water bottle she had used to calm him earlier.

"Look, water," she said, tilting the bottle back and forth. "Water." Tyler reached over and took the bottle from his mother. The broad, almost clown-like smile that the boy held on his face even when upset, seemed to increase as he imitated the movements his mother had made with the bottle.

"Has the tyke always been fascinated with water? Or did he become enchanted after watching one too many reruns of Baywatch with Pamela Anderson making us all wish we needed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?" House turned to Thirteen. "Notice I said all; I included you in that, too." Thirteen squirmed uncomfortably as she saw the Hunters look at her curiously.

"Thanks," she said under her breath.

"No, it didn't start until after the accident. I mean, he always liked his bath and to play in the sprinkler, but," Mrs. Hunter said looking at her son, "never like this." She reached up and stroked his hair. He started to become agitated and moved his hands more rapidly to try and push hers away. Mrs. Hunter quickly stopped touching him and allowed the water bottle to act as his pacifier. Malcolm Hunter turned to House and Wilson.

"Well, I was wondering when I would see you," he said, addressing more House than Wilson.

"We were in our conference room reviewing the files that you sent over about Tyler," Wilson said, hoping the explanation would satisfy Hunter.

"Why, may I ask, are you working on this case? I understood you to be head of oncology. My son does not have cancer," Hunter said, shaking his head.

"He doesn't have PTSD either," said House throwing down the first gauntlet "Looks like you're going to have to sue yourself for malpractice. But first, you'd have to defend yourself against charges of practicing medicine without a license and participating in life without a conscience." House and Hunter locked eyes, their disdain for each other apparent to all in the room. The question was: who would blink first.

"I will take it, that Dr. Cuddy conveyed to you the comments I made to her in our recent meeting; so your reaction to me is understandable. It's not fun dealing with the person intent on finding your Achilles' heel." Hunter glanced at the team and then Wilson. "But I come here as neither friend nor foe. My wife," he hesitated, "…and I would like a re-evaluation of our son's condition." House shook his head.

"So you want us to prove that the basis you used for your BS lawsuit is wrong? That the diagnosis you coerced out of the other doctors and used to ruin a person's life is a lie? Excuse me while I step outside for some fresh air. The three year old bait you're using stinks." Malcolm Hunter allowed a very small smile to cross his face.

"Who slandered me by saying I coerced anything out of anyone?" House wanted to kick himself for allowing Hunter to catch him off guard, but he quickly managed a slight recovery.

"A fly on the wall. At least that's what all the buzz is about," he quipped. Hunter was about to make a comment, when his son began to laugh. Tyler's laughter filled the room not with the joy that a child's laughter usually evoked; this sound had an eerie unnaturalness to it. His arm movements and hand flapping became more intensified and Tyler dropped the water bottle that had been soothing him up till now. He climbed down off of his mother's lap and ran full speed at the glass door to his room. Wilson, however, was in his path and was able to stop him before Tyler crashed into anything or anyone. Rather than become agitated by the restraining touch, he tried to hug Wilson while still flailing about. He quickly moved to other members of the team, exhibiting a very awkward and unsteady gait as he moved about. Foreman, Chase and Thirteen stood frozen in place as Tyler approached each one of them. Taub tried to lean over to talk to the child, but was hit in the face for his efforts.

"Tyler, Tyler come here, baby. Are you hungry? Do you want um-um? Do you want your mushy?" Mrs. Hunter asked.

"Jeanne, for God's sake, talk to him normally. He's never going to learn to talk if you keep that baby babble up," Hunter said disgustedly. Jeanne Hunter had bent down to get her son's attention; she was able to put her arms around him and pick him up.

"He's never going to talk normally. When are you going to acknowledge and accept that?" she asked sharply. House took note of the discord between husband and wife. He wondered if it was the normal reaction to the stress of caring for a sick child or was there a deeper underlying issue involved. "Would I be able to get a small amount of milk, three or four ounces? I need to mix up Tyler's cereal."

"I'll get it," volunteered Thirteen. As she moved toward the door, House stopped her.

"How's the wrist?" She held it out and turned it over to reveal a bruise whose shape clearly indicated teeth marks.

"The skin's not broken; it's OK," she said ruefully. House nodded and she continued out of the room.

"What exactly is Tyler's diet like?" asked Chase. "I take it from what you just indicated he needs to eat soft foods." Mr. Hunter scoffed.

"If you had read his file, you'd know that already."

"The tests and information in the file are basically good for nothing but starting a fire for a wiener roast; they're at least a year old and probably filled with misinformation." House said. He watched as Tyler continued to laugh and bounce off people and objects in the room. "Tell me, who in the family is a surfer dude? Obviously it's neither one of you," noting their dark hair.

"If you mean Tyler's blond hair and blue eyes, there's no one in the family that we could find who had his coloring. We saw pictures going back to our great-grandparents and the only thing we could find was that my maternal grandmother had auburn colored hair," said Mrs. Hunter.

"Doesn't look like he spends much time outside," noted House, observing the child's extremely pale complexion.

"Yes, it was an issue of concern for us for quite some time, but then we just learned to accept that it's one of the things that makes Tyler special," Hunter said.

"In other words, you passed the paternity tests with flying colors." Hunter squared his shoulders and turned toward House, but at that moment, Thirteen came back in the room with the milk Mrs. Hunter requested.

"Here you are, Mrs. Hunter," said Thirteen as she handed the small carton over. "All they had in the kitchen up here was skim milk. I hope that's OK."

"That's fine, thank you. Tyler won't be able to tell the difference." Mrs. Hunter looked away from Thirteen. "I'm sorry he hurt you before." Thirteen shrugged.

"I think I hurt it more getting it out of his grip." She smiled at Mrs. Hunter. "He's very strong." Jeanne Hunter smiled in return.

"It's such a difference from when he was a toddler."

"How so?" asked Taub.

"That's ancient history and not relevant to what's happening now," Malcolm Hunter said. He looked at Taub sharply. "You should be concerning yourself with his present condition and the events that led to it." The lawyer in Hunter was clearly coming out; no unnecessary questions, no unnecessary answers.

"The events that led to his present condition may have well started in ancient history," said House. "It would be negligent to the child's welfare if we ignored anything that could affect his well-being; some would even call it malpractice," House concluded sarcastically, doing his best to imitate Hunter's tone and cadence in speaking.

"Mr. Hunter, I have to say that I agree with Dr. House in this matter," Foreman said. "Tyler's prior medical history could very well hold some clues as to how his current condition came about. It's essential that…" Hunter cut him off.

"My son's current condition," Hunter said looking annoyed as Tyler ran into him for the umpteenth time, "is due to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder caused by the reckless actions of a group of individuals. I am satisfied with that assessment." He glanced over at his wife. "Mrs. Hunter is not. I'm sure once you examine Tyler you will reach the same conclusions that the other doctors did." He looked at his watch. "I'm due in court." He turned to his wife. "I'll talk to you later."

"Fine," said Jeanne Hunter without looking at her husband; she kept her head down mixing the milk Thirteen gave her with baby cereal. Malcolm Hunter didn't even acknowledge his son as he walked past him to the door.

"I'm just curious," said House as Hunter put his hand on the door handle, "how it is you think that we'll reach the same incorrect opinion as the other doctors did. It doesn't seem terribly likely since you don't have pending lawsuits against any of us the way you did against three of the four doctors who were treating your son when the medical reports you brought in were written. The reports," noted House, "that you submitted as evidence in your various lawsuits relating to your terribly traumatic car accident." He and Hunter stood inches away from each other, eyes blazing with contempt; Wilson was sure that if there weren't any witness, Hunter would have thrown a punch.

"Dr. House, what I said to Dr. Cuddy was just an off the cuff remark. If I choose to, I can easily make it a reality." With that, Hunter turned and slid open the door to the room. As he stepped out into the hallway, he almost collided with Jeffery Davidson, the board member who first approached the team with Tyler Hunter's case. The two men stopped, exchanged curt greetings, and then Hunter hurried on his way.

"Hello," Davidson said nodding to everyone in the room, "I wanted to see how things were going…" He reacted to Tyler's running into him with a slight wince as the boy hit him in the small of his back.

"Tyler," Called Jeanne as she rose from her chair, "look what Mommy's got. Mushies." She offered him a spoonful of cereal by placing it directly in his mouth. The food must have appealed to the child because as Mrs. Hunter backed up to sit down again, Tyler followed her as she held out another spoonful of cereal. She breathed an audible sigh of relief as he began to slowly maneuver himself onto her lap to eat the food. "To answer your questions from before: yes, Tyler eats mainly soft foods. We were told he was born with extremely low muscle tone in his mouth; his whole body actually. Although he had over tonality in his calves as a baby and into being a toddler. He didn't walk until he was fifteen months old and that was after physical therapy. He's also had speech therapy." The team looked at each other in shock.

"Mrs. Hunter, are you aware of the fact that none of that information is in the file that was sent from St. James Hospital?" asked Chase.

"That file wasn't sent to you by the hospital; I brought it over," said Davidson. House looked at Jeanne and then Davidson.

"So, whose point man are you; his?" he said nodding in the direction of the door, "Or hers?" Davidson looked at Jeanne.

"I'm hers; but for personal and professional reasons, I have to walk a very delicate line. I'm Malcolm Hunter's lead accountant."

"So he has both you and his wife on the board, both bringing back lots of good gossip of cases gone wrong," said House. "It's even better than insider trading."

"No!" Jeanne said quickly, "No; I mean, yes, I've told him about things going on here at the hospital, but never with the intention of allowing him to maliciously go after anyone. Dr. House, I have to apologize to you especially; when I mentioned your name to Malcolm as someone who could help Tyler, I had no idea about the threat he made against you. I only found out when Jeff told me." Everyone on House's team and Wilson began to speak at once.

"What threat?"

"When did this happen?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"YO!" House yelled out. "Do you want an answer or would you rather just stand there and babble like a bunch of Ashton Kutcher groupies who just found put he's back on the market?" Everyone in the room quickly quieted down. Only Wilson dared to speak.

"House…" he began. House shot him a look. Wilson took a deep breath.

"House I…" he said more quickly than before. House shot him another look. Wilson rolled his eyes, gave up and put his head down.

"Why don't you tell them?" said House to Davidson. Wilson picked his head up and just stared at House as Davidson began to speak.

"A few months ago Malcolm and I were here to discuss a settlement on a suit he brought against the hospital and some of its staff. Dr. Cuddy was seeing us out when Dr. House walked by and made some remark to Dr. Cuddy."

"An entirely inappropriate one, I'm sure," said Wilson. Davidson smiled.

"Well, after Dr. House walked away, Malcolm turned to Dr. Cuddy and said that he was surprised that he had never had to handle a case against Dr. House before and that if he ever did, he would make sure he would win and win big," said Davidson.

"I believe more precisely, he said I'd wind up living in a cardboard box by the side of the freeway, because he'd make sure I was never allowed to practice medicine again." There was a stunned silence. Finally, Thirteen spoke.

"What the hell did you do to piss him off so?" she asked.

"Yeah, it had to have been a doozy," Taub said. House looked at them in disbelief.

"Way to go, kick a guy when he's down."

"Why not?" said Chase. "You do it all the time."

"You're his Irene Adler," said Wilson turning to look at House. "He hasn't figured out how to get to you or beat you and now, he's willing to use his own child to try and get to you." House looked at Wilson and nodded his head.

"I see you've read the book I loaned you."

"But if we agree with the doctors at St. James and say it's PTSD, then how can he go after any of us?" asked Chase.

"Don't flatter yourself; it's not you he wants. It's me. By the fact that Diagnostics is handling the case, I'm automatically put in the firing line," said House as he began to pace the room. He noticed Thirteen gesturing to him.

"What's that, Lassie? Timmy fell down a well where his cell phone can't get reception?" House said. Thirteen rolled her eyes.

"Look at Tyler and his mom," she said. Jeanne Hunter and Tyler were both asleep, the wide, unnatural smile gone from his face; a look of peaceful contentment in its place. She had put the bowl of cereal on the table next to her and was cradling her son in her arms.

"So he does have an off switch," noted House. Tyler squirmed slightly at the sound of House's voice. Wilson gestured for everyone to step out of the room. After all had exited, he closed the door and took a deep breath. House started to pace a few steps back and forth, staring at the floor as he did.

"Please don't just dismiss this by agreeing with the diagnosis Malcolm made them put in that report." It was Jeffery Davidson speaking as watched Jeanne and Tyler sleep. He never took his eyes off them as he continued. "Tyler doesn't sleep through the night or take any kind of prolonged naps. They've been through countless nannies and aides. Every one of them has left because the boy is such a handful." He turned to face the group in the hallway with him. "Jeanne needs help desperately. Malcolm won't even deal with Tyler except to put on a show of poor, pitiful him having a kid that will never be the starting quarterback at Stamford." He turned back to look at mother and son; this was a different man than the one who had cornered Foreman and Wilson earlier that day. "She's been through so much of this alone. I want to do what I can to make sure she doesn't have to do that anymore." Wilson glanced over at House; he didn't change his expression dramatically, but Wilson could see an understanding in House's eyes.

"How long has it been?" House asked. Davidson looked over and realized that House caught on to the nature of his relationship with Jeanne.

"Two years. I've worked for Malcolm for four, but Jeanne and I didn't start seeing each other until Malcolm completely abandoned her, emotionally and physically. Being a judge's daughter, she was nothing more than a trophy wife to him."

"So, he has own action going on the side?" House turned to look at Wilson. "Between you being a three time loser and heartwarming little scenarios like this, you wonder why I don't believe in marriage."

"Have you told Lydia that?" asked Thirteen. House turned to scowl at her.

"So, you knew Tyler before the accident," said Foreman. Davidson nodded.

"He was a delightful little boy. He had the speech and movement issues that Jeanne described to you, but nothing resembling the way he is now. If I didn't know better, I would think that the accident did have something to do with this; but I know that's not the case."

"How so?" Foreman asked.

"He began to show some signs of additional problems in the couple of months before the accident. He was never very talkative, but it got to the point where he would never speak unless spoken to, never looked at you. He would go through fits of hyper-activity, running around; and then just drift off into his own little world."

"His mother never noticed this?" Chase asked.

"She did and she told me later on that she mentioned it to both the speech and physical therapists, but they didn't seem too concerned about it. They never did give her a reason for the low muscle tone issues." House had been leaning against the wall thinking and taking in what Davidson was saying. He stared at the floor as he rapped his cane on it.

"House," said Wilson, "where do we start?"

"We are going to need to get a fresh set of tests. Not only are they over a year old, but their validity is clearly in question. Metabolic blood panel, CBC with differential, thyroid panel including TSH and uptake, urinalysis, EKG, EEG. See where those results take us, we'll figure out how best to use an MRI." He looked at Davidson. "We're going to have to give the kid something to sedate him in order to get these tests done. Think the mom will have any issues with that?"

"No; unfortunately, she's used to it. Oh, and I know there's no urgency in terms of the fact that what's wrong with Tyler isn't life threatening, but according to Malcolm, he's set a time limit. If you haven't come up with an answer by Friday morning, he's taking him out of the hospital and using your failure as ammunition against you." House looked away from the group.

"In other words, I'm fighting two battles: the kid's and my own."

"I'm afraid so," said Davidson. "I'll do whatever I can; give you whatever information you need to help Jeanne and to protect yourself from Malcolm. I took this job four years ago because it was necessary at the time. Let's just say, it isn't any more." House nodded and looked at the team.

"Send the kid into la-la land and get the tests started. You," he said addressing Davidson, "stay here and keep mom calm for as long as you can."

"I've got at least two hours before I have to be back at the office. That should be when Malcolm comes back in from court. Is there any way for Jeanne to sleep in Tyler's room in something more comfortable than just a regular chair?"

"He'll be sedated and won't know she's gone," said Thirteen. "She really should go home and get a decent night's rest." Davidson shook his head.

"Home is the last place she should go to get rest."

"We can arrange for a reclining chair to be brought in," said Taub. "It's not very well padded, but it's better than nothing."

"Thank you." Davidson walked back over to the door to Tyler's room, very quietly slid it open and walked inside. House looked down the hallway in the direction of the elevators.

"As soon as you have results, bring them to the conference room. Grab something to eat on the way; it's going to be a long haul." House started to walk down the hall at a slower pace than usual. He wasn't sure if it was because his leg was hurting even more than before or if it was the weight of the idea of finally having to confront Malcolm Hunter head on. He and Hunter sparred a bit several years back with a series of letters to the editor in a medical journal. Cuddy stepped in and "forbade" him to write any more replies; of course he continued under a series of phony names. That was fun. This was anything but.

"House!" Wilson called out. He walked quickly to catch up to House who was nearing the elevators. "Foreman suggested I go with you to brainstorm. They've got everything covered as far as running the tests." House stopped and looked at Wilson.

"You told Foreman you wanted to babysit me. You're afraid I'm going to have some sort of melt down."

"No, but I do think you could use some company. Why didn't you tell me about the conversation between Cuddy and Hunter?" House shrugged and continued toward the elevators.

"Cuddy seemed to think he was just blowing off steam. He was pissed because he didn't get the full settlement he wanted from a case. He forgot that with a good compromise, every one walks away mad." He pressed the call button for the elevator.

"I was going to go grab some iced tea and maybe some chips or something to munch on while we work. Are you hungry?" asked Wilson.

"No."

"When was the last time you ate?" House smiled a little. The elevators opened and the two stepped inside. Wilson pressed the button for the lobby.

"Lydia made eggs and toast this morning. Actually, she sent me a text while ago," he said as he took his cell phone out of his pocket. House called up the text. As he read, Wilson could see the expression on his face become more relaxed.

"She got a call for a second interview at the school she went to yesterday and a private school she sent a resume to a month ago called her to come in. At least someone is having a good day." The elevator doors opened and the two walked out into the lobby. Wilson stopped just outside the cafeteria.

"Look, I'm going to go grab a couple of iced teas and a couple of orders of fries and I'll bring them up to the conference room. Why don't you go give her a call? You know you'll feel better when you hear her voice." House gave Wilson a look.

"God, you make me sound like such a wimpy pile of gruel when you say things like that." Wilson smiled.

"You know it's true." House turned and started to walk toward the door; he figured some fresh air would be good for him. "Hey, House?" He turned to look at Wilson. "I'm not sure how much help I'm really going to be on this case. It's going to be more like I'm just riding along on your coattails." House glanced over at him.

"You'll do what you always do: play Watson to my Holmes; play Martin to my Lewis; play Beavis to my Butt-Head…"

"OK," Wilson said throwing his hands up, "I get the idea."

"Wilson, do we have any more white boards in this place?"

"You mean other than the one in your conference room?"

"Yeah." He could see House was deep in thought.

"Sure, we've got a couple of them."

"Good," said House. "Send one up to my conference room." Wilson looked at him quizzically. "We're going to need more than one to figure this case out." House turned and stepped outside to call Lydia.


	5. Chapter 5

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Five -"Playing the Part"

By : Purpleu

House stepped outside the hospital and moved toward the benches to his left. He fiddled with his cell phone as he sat down, pressing the speed dial button for Lydia, "B.B.B." Wilson was right; he needed to hear her voice. Putting the phone up to his ear, he listened as the rings went by: one, two, three…He was about to hang up and try again when finally the call was answered.

"Hello," said a sultry female voice, "Joe's Massage Parlor; leave your body in our hands." House hesitated for a split second then broke into a wide grin as he started chuckling.

"Anytime, if they're your hands. By the way, do you take requests?" There was a gasp at the other end.

"And what would your girlfriend have to say about this?" House got a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"She won't care. She's become a real career woman, going on one interview after another. She's completely abandoned me."

"What? I have…I mean she has not…I…" House laughed as the voice on the phone returned to Lydia's normal speaking voice. "Gregory House, you are incorrigible!"

"So I've been told; more than once in the past two days." He went silent for a moment as he became serious. "Thanks, I needed to laugh," House said quietly looking down at the ground.

"How are things going?" House let out a disgusted sigh.

"The kid has so many things going on, I feel like I need a really large sieve with really small holes to get any clarity on the situation. And I don't even want to discuss the father."

"The malpractice lawyer?"

"Yeah. I'm the big fish and he's using his son as the minnow for bait. It turns out he's playing games with a lot of people and a few of those games may even be illegal, never mind immoral and unethical." House looked to his right and saw Wilson approach from the hospital entrance, walking briskly. "Hold on a sec." House stood up and moved toward Wilson.

"Thirteen says they heard a heart murmur, grading it at 4.5 to 5. Level and sounds stay the same on change in position," Wilson reported. "Chest x-ray is clear." House rolled his eyes.

"It's a good thing that heart murmurs are common in kids or I'd start looking for the hidden camera and Allen Funt," he said shaking his head and taking a deep breath. "Tell them to do a 12-lead ECG so we have a base line and an echocardiogram with Doppler. Daddy Dearest is going to make the deductible on his insurance whether he likes it or not." Wilson looked at House with raised eyebrows and turned to go back in the building.

"Oh, I had the team order some food and charged it to your department." House was about to say something, but thought about it and changed his mind.

"Might as well while I still have a department whose money I can spend." Wilson nodded in agreement as he dialed Thirteen and went back inside. House realized he had kept Lydia hanging on as he spoke to Wilson. "Hey, sorry about that." Silence. "Lydia? Lydia, are you there?"

"I'm right here," a voice behind him said. House quickly turned around, but didn't see anyone behind him. He took a few steps forward toward the walkway and just to his left, past a large evergreen that was part of the landscaping, was Lydia. He felt his whole body relax as she came to him and wrapped her arms around him.

"What the hell are you doing here? Can't you see I'm busy with work?" House said, pretending to sound annoyed while at the same time retuning her embrace.

"Well in that case, I'll leave. I know when I'm not wanted," Lydia said as she went to break away from him. House grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

"You're not going anywhere," he said as he kissed her. She looked up at him and smiled. He returned the smile, but only very weakly.

"Are you OK?" she asked as she reached up to stroke his cheek. "You look worried." House nodded.

"I'd rather be forced to sit locked in a room, listening to a bunch of tone-deaf kids sing the theme song from 'Barney' a thousand times in a row than deal with this." House walked back to the benches and sat down. As Lydia sat down next to him, he asked, "So you didn't answer my question: What are you doing here?"

"I had dropped Annie off at her therapy appointment and was headed over to the stores to pick up a few things. I was literally three blocks away on Clearfield Avenue when your call came in. I pulled over because I forgot to take my phone out of my purse before I started driving. When I heard your voice, heard how upset you sounded, I just wanted to come and check on you, see if there was anything I could do," Lydia said. House put his arm around her and leaned against the seat back with his legs stretched out in front of him.

"Unless you can dig a hole big enough to swallow up D for B, I don't think so." Lydia looked confused.

"D for B?" House closed his eyes.

"Dick for Brains." Lydia laughed and shook her head.

"He can't be stupid. From what you said, he has a reputation for being a very smart lawyer."

"Smart in a bad way. I know I've bent a few rules in my life…"

"A few?" questioned Lydia. "That's an understatement." House shot her a look.

"Whose side are you on?"

"Yours. I'm just being honest."

"Which is more than Hunter ever is," commented House. He glanced at his watch and pulled his cell phone out. "C'mon; we'll go for a walk and I'll fill you on things. Let me just tell Wilson to call me when the food is ready." He pushed the entry on his speed dial labeled "Dancing Queen."

"I'm glad you're going to eat something. I'm sure the eggs I made this morning aren't going to hold you through the day."

"Wilson decided to order something for me. It doesn't mean I'm going to eat it."

"The food isn't ready yet, if that's why you're calling," said Wilson, anticipating House's question as he answered his phone.

"Nah, couldn't care less about the food. Just wanted to let you know, I'm going to be taking a stroll around the hospital grounds; give me a call whenever the ptomaine palace finishes making up their latest version of poison."

"You're taking a walk by yourself? Are sure you don't want company?" Wilson asked.

"That's the beauty of it; I won't be alone. As I was standing out front, this gorgeous, hot babe pulls up in a fire engine red Lamborghini and says she'd like to get to know me and my big cane better. We're off in search of a dark corner where were can get better acquainted." All Lydia could do was bury her face in her hands and repeatedly whisper "I don't believe you said that!" There was silence from the other end of the line. Finally, Wilson spoke.

"Fine. I'll call you when the food is done. And say hi to Lydia for me." House laughed as he hung up.

"Wilson says 'hi'," House told Lydia as he slipped the phone in his pocket. "Make yourself useful. Help me stand up," he said sitting forward and extending his left arm. Lydia stood up, turned around to face him and folded her arms across her chest. She glared down at House as he sat there with his arm upstretched, a look of anticipation on his face.

"Not until you ask nicely." House dropped his arm into his lap.

"Bitte helfen Sie mir aufzustehen."

Lydia smiled as she leaned over House until their foreheads touched.

"You know far more German than you let on." House tilted his head to the side.

"I don't think I could match you word for word in a conversation, but I know enough to get by." He looked into Lydia's eyes and wished he could make this case go away. The pressure he was putting on himself to come through this relatively unscathed, didn't just come from Hunter being able to take away his livelihood; it had to do with how it would affect his relationship with Lydia. Taking into consideration how his actions were going to impact another person's life, on a personal rather than professional level, was something House hadn't dealt with in a long time.

"Greg? I said I love you." House blinked once or twice to bring him back to the present.

"I love you, too." He put his arm around Lydia's shoulders and guided her to sit on his left knee. He pulled her in and hugged her tightly, hoping it would further sooth his nerves.

"You know, I don't often say I hate people," Lydia began, "But you haven't even told me much about this man and I hate him for what he's doing to you." She pulled back slightly so she could make eye contact with House. "Let's take that walk so you can tell me the story of the little boy and the Dummkopf." Lydia stood, and extended her left hand. "Since you said 'please'." House smiled slightly. He reached up for her hand and allowed her to pull a little; he would have liked to have had her pull more, as his leg was still killing him, but he didn't want to bring her down on top of him. Not now, anyway.

"Danke. Let's go this way," House said leading her on the walkway past his parking spot. He took her hand, gave it a squeeze and began the story of his history with Malcolm Hunter, from their written confrontations, to Hunter's comment to Cuddy a few months ago, to manipulating things so that his wife wanted House to examine their son. Then he started on the medical aspects of what he was dealing with, how there were so many symptoms, none of which stood out as leading to a comprehensive diagnosis; how some of them were there from birth, some came out just before the accident and some after. And then there was the aspect of watching the child in action. Refusing to make eye contact, wanting to hug, yet physical contact could take place only on his terms. No verbal communication except for screeching when he appeared to be unhappy and strange, repetitive laughter with a clownish smile the rest of the time. Lydia shook her head in amazement when House finished describing things.

"Unbelievable. That poor child! And his mother; the helplessness and frustration she must feel, never mind exhaustion," Lydia said.

"Yeah. At least she has some help in that she's got his lead accountant, who also happens to be a board member, on her side. It seems they've had something going on between them for a couple of years now. He definitely has a thing for her; I didn't get a chance to gauge her reaction." House stopped walking. He pulled out his cell phone to see if he missed any messages from the team. There were none. "The kid's problem has got to be neurological in nature. I want to see the results of the EEG, see where the wiring's gone wrong. Clarify the areas of deficiency or over-activity and it might lead us to the source of the problem."

"And all of these problems would fit under a single diagnosis?" Lydia asked. House shook his head.

"Not one that I can think of at the moment. There's got to be something hiding. That's why I want to see the EEG," he said as he took out his phone again. "What the hell is taking so long?" He started to push the button for speed dial to Foreman's phone; since neurology was Foreman's specialty, House hoped he had enough sense to oversee the EEG.

"Greg, do you smell smoke?" House looked annoyed at his cell phone.

"Damn, the call failed." He saw that Lydia had a strange look on her face. "What did you say?"

"Do you smell smoke?" she repeated. House took in a deep breath.

"Yeah and I hear an alarm and see people coming out of the building. Let's go back around to the main entrance." The two walked quickly to the front entrance. A large crowd was gathered and among them, House spotted Wilson and his team in the middle of the driveway.

"What the hell happened?" House asked. "The pyromaniac we threw out of the clinic came back?"

"No, I think he's still in jail," said Wilson. "It seems two of the cooks in the cafeteria decided to have a domestic dispute on the job and were too busy screaming obscenities at each other to watch what they were doing. There's no actual fire, but the oil in the fryers started to smoke like crazy."

"Did you contact the fire department and let them know they don't need to come?" asked Foreman. Wilson nodded.

"Yeah, but standard procedure is to send at least two trucks over. The head of maintenance is waiting for them. He'll handle most of it and we can talk to them at the end."

"Where's our patient?" asked House.

"Back in his room, knocked out," Chase said. "We were about to take him for the EEG when the alarm went off. Didn't have to move him since he's in a separate wing with fire doors."

"The ventilation system seems to be pulling most of the smoke away. And here comes the fire department now," Wilson noted. The group moved onto the far sidewalk opposite the building to let the trucks through. Foreman saw that the head of maintenance had stepped forward, so he and Wilson were free for the moment.

"So you didn't do the EEG yet?" House asked. Foreman shook his head. "We need to check this kid's circuit board."

"You're thinking a neurological issue?" asked Taub. House made a face.

"No, I'm thinking chicken pox. I want the EEG to add to my collection of portraits of my patient's brainwaves."

"What particular neuro disorder?" Foreman asked. "Epilepsy? Autism?"

"Could be both," said Thirteen. "Autistic children frequently suffer from epileptic seizures."

"Except autistic children don't hug and seek out physical contact." House turned to his left to see Lydia standing there; he had gotten so engrossed in things, he had forgotten she was there.

"That's very true," he said smiling at her contribution to the conversation.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Lydia asked. House dropped his head down for a moment. It couldn't be avoided; they were all standing right there. But this was a biggie for House: allowing his work and personal life to intermingle. Then again, he never really had much of a personal life to speak of, so maybe it won't be too bad.

"OK, girlfriend meet team, team meet girlfriend." House nodded his head, satisfied that the task was complete; the others held a different opinion.

"We have names you know," said Lydia.

"Yeah and I know them. No more needs to be said." Lydia looked at the team.

"It's a good thing Greg spoke about all of you. I think I can figure this out…you're Dr. Chase," she said pointing, "You're Dr. Taub, you're Dr. Foreman and you are Thirteen. Shouldn't that be Dr. Thirteen?" Thirteen laughed.

"Actually it's Dr. Hadley, but you can call me Thirteen. And you got everyone else right." Lydia smiled.

"Good. I'm Lydia Strohman," she said extending her hand to Thirteen who stood closest to her. Thirteen shook the offered hand as did Chase, Taub and Foreman with appropriate greetings exchanged.

"Going back to something Lydia mentioned a minute ago," said Chase, "She's right about the hugging and the laughing and the big smile all not being part of autism. It's the opposite in fact."

"The classification is autism spectrum of disorders," said Taub. "Most people when they hear autism think of a general set of behaviors, but there are subtle differences between the various disorders."

"Right," Foreman said. "After we do the EEG we can see where the abnormalities are and try to classify which disorder it could be."

"Which is what you said a little while ago," Lydia said to House. She saw the confusion on Foreman's face. "When Greg and I were walking around the building, he said the EEG was important and the results could classify the problem." She could see that Foreman looked a little disappointed that he wasn't getting the credit for the idea. "I guess great minds think alike," she offered. Foreman smiled.

"Wait a minute are you comparing my mind to his?" asked House.

"Well, he seems very…"

"My mind," House said pointing to his head, "As compared to his?" Lydia threw her hands up.

"I'm trying to be nice." House frowned.

"Why?" Lydia shook her head.

"And all of you willingly subject yourselves to this?" she asked gesturing toward House.

"Yes, and you do, too," said Thirteen. Lydia nodded her head in agreement.

"Yeah, but her fringe benefits are way better," House said looking at Lydia.

"Greg…" Lydia warned.

"Don't want to hear it. Don't want to know," the team said simultaneously. House gave in to a little smile; he was actually enjoying watching Lydia meeting the team. He noted how well they hit it off with her; but then there was no reason not to. He hated to break things up, seeing how happy Lydia was, but he was eager to get the EEG done and figure out where the results would take them.

"Hey, I think they've given the all clear; we can go back in," Wilson said. Good, let him play spoilsport, House thought. Everyone walked across the driveway back to the plaza in front of the hospital. "We should talk to the fire captain and Mario to see if maintenance has it cleaned up," Wilson said to Foreman.

"And here comes the food services head…what's his name again?" asked Foreman.

"It's not Bobby Flay or Wolfgang Puck, that's for sure," noted House.

"It's probably not even Chef-Boyar-Dee knowing hospital food," commented Lydia.

"We'll be right back," said Foreman smiling as he and Wilson walked away.

"You know Tyler's probably going to want to eat when we wake him up for the test," said Taub. "I think the cereal the mother gave him before was the last time he ate."

"Maybe I can call up to the nurses' station and have one of them ask the mom if he eats soup or yogurt or something else soft," offered Thirteen.

"He has to eat something more than baby food," said Chase. "His height and weight were in the seventy-fifth percentile. He doesn't appear to be malnourished and his preliminary blood work has come back clean. No deficiencies or spikes anywhere."

"How old is the child?" asked Lydia.

"Six. The mother said he was born with overall low muscle tone, but most notably in the mouth," House said.

"She said it delayed his speech, but that he communicated on a higher level back before the accident," said Thirteen.

"Yes, but Davidson said that his communication abilities were starting to falter a few weeks before the accident," Chase said as Wilson and Foreman rejoined the group.

"The boy was premature," said Lydia. It was statement not a question.

"Yes," Taub said taken back, "How…"

"Does he have flat feet?" she asked. House turned to her.

"Where are you going with this?" Lydia began to walk back and forth as she talked.

"When my father was stationed at the embassy in Greece, there were a lot of children there and once a month, they held a small party for them. The older kids would help look after the younger ones. I was one of the older ones." She continued walking and pointed her index finger out to emphasize what she was saying. "There was a little boy, he was about five or six, and I remember he couldn't hold things properly, not a pencil or a crayon. He couldn't pinch his fingers together to close the top on a zipper-top plastic bag and when he walked, you heard him coming, because he smacked his feet down on the ground, like this." She demonstrated the boy's walk.

"He was flat-footed," said House.

"So is Tyler. When I was examining him, I took off his shoes and saw he had an orthotic inside," said Taub. "And sure enough, when I looked at his feet…flat."

"And I'm going to guess he has flat hands, too," Lydia said looking at the team. They all looked startled, even House. "Look at the palms of your hands," she directed. "See the curve? Now flatten your hand out and you still have a slight curve. The little boy at the embassy didn't. I'm willing to say that your patient doesn't either."

"What did the kid at the embassy have?" asked Chase. Lydia looked pained.

"I'm trying to remember. I asked his mother about him, because he was one of the children in my group, but she didn't want to talk about it much."

"Great. You've gotten us on the highway, now we just don't know what exit to get off at," said House in frustration.

"Hey, we know more now than we did five minutes ago," said Wilson coming to Lydia's defense. House shot him a look.

"Tactile issues. The boy I knew had issues with what to eat and where to sit and what toys he would play with," Lydia said ignoring the exchange between House and Wilson. "He would drink apple juice, but wouldn't eat an apple. Foods that you and I would let cool before we'd eat them, he'd just shove in his mouth. He never wanted to sit on a cushioned chair and he rarely wanted to sleep in his bed. His mother would find him sleeping on the floor."

"Mrs. Hunter said her son only sleeps in short bursts. If she's lucky, maybe two hours at a time, but never through the night. And she often finds him sleeping on the floor." Taub said. House paced back and forth, his brow furrowed in thought. He was clearly aggravated at the situation. There was an answer right in front of them and no one was grabbing on to it. House suddenly stopped walking and turned quickly to Taub.

"Was he a C-section or vaginal delivery?" Taub looked startled.

"C-section; although they tried to deliver vaginally, but the baby's heart rate was too high." House turned to Lydia

"You don't know how the embassy kid popped out, do you?" Lydia shook her head.

"No, but I think mom didn't make it to the hospital on time for the birth. She said something about him being born in a taxi." House froze and his eyes opened wide. He walked the few steps that were between him and Lydia grabbed her and kissed her.

"I really love you right now," he said.

"I...love you, too," she said hesitantly glancing over at the team. The team and Wilson were staring at them in shock. He turned back to the group.

"Ataxia Cerebral Palsy. There are three types of Cerebral Palsy: Spastic, Athetoid and Ataxia. There's also a school of thought that says a child can have a combination of two of them," explained House.

"It would account for the low muscle tone in most of the body, yet over tonality in his feet and hands. The lack of communication and inability to eat proper foods, the jerky, stiff walk; it all makes sense," Thirteen said.

"Unfortunately it doesn't cover the laughing, the big smile, no eye contact, the screeching. There's still a lot left to account for," noted Foreman.

"Party pooper," said House.

"But it still gives us a base to start with. Since you can establish that there's something wrong neurologically since birth wouldn't it make sense that any other problems would be neurological, too?" asked Wilson.

"It gives us a firmer base to start with, but nothing can be eliminated yet. Once we do the EEG, we should know what we're hunting and what kind of rifle to use," said House.

"I still can't believe that Hunter made sure none of this got into his son's file from St. James," said Chase.

"He obviously knew that if the CP diagnosis came out in court, his case would lose some credence," Wilson said. "But there has to be a chart or a file somewhere where all of this is noted."

"Probably the first doctors the mom took the kid to. We don't have their names, do we?" asked Chase.

"You know, Tyler was seeing a speech therapist and a physical therapist and they told Mrs. Hunter that Tyler's symptoms were nothing to worry about," noted Thirteen. "Could Hunter have coerced them into keeping quiet, too?"

"This man …he's kept proper medical treatment from his son by his actions. Couldn't that be considered child endangerment? And aren't you, as medical professionals required to report that?" Lydia asked. "I know when I took child abuse prevention classes when I got my teaching certification, that physicians and teachers are required by law to report those things in most states."

"Yes we are," said Foreman, "but we don't have any proof that he knew about the CP or pressured anyone or withheld treatment."

"You don't need absolute proof. All you need is suspicion beyond a reasonable doubt. At least that's what I was taught in the class I took." Wilson looked at Lydia with a smile.

"You want to take Malcolm Hunter down, don't you?" he asked. She let out a sigh.

"Nobody is perfect; everyone makes mistakes. And when a doctor or anyone does something wrong, there should be a price to pay. But what he is doing is wrong. He's made doctors lie and falsify records, he's preventing them from doing their jobs properly by striking fear into them so they can't think straight even when it involves his own son," said Lydia looking around at House, Wilson and the team. "That, to me, is the most reprehensible thing of all. He can't continue to get away with this. No one should be afraid of doing a job they love and do well." Lydia looked down at the ground. "Sorry for going on so, but I just feel very strongly about this."

"That's OK," said Thirteen. "We know where your passion on the subject is coming from." She looked over at House and smiled. Lydia saw her look and smiled too.

"I mean it for all of you. Plus, I have a son who is just a little older than your patient." The team exchanged looks.

"You have a son?" questioned Taub trying not to look at House.

"And a daughter. Ben is seven and Elise is four." The team nodded their heads almost in unison.

"How very… interesting," said Foreman.

"OK, enough. I know you find the thought of me with little people very amusing. The fact is, I have no problem with it."

"R…i…g…h…t…" said Chase. House shook his head and as he did, he saw Jeffrey Davidson, Malcolm Hunter's accountant leaving the building.

"Do we have a number to contact Davidson at?" asked House.

"Yeah, he gave one to me. Just asked me not to put it in the chart," said Chase. House smirked.

"He's learned well from his boss. Didn't he say he's willing to do anything to help the mother?"

"Basically," said Chase.

"Maybe he can get the mother to give us the early medical files. Then we'd have a chance at having proof of what the bloodsucker did or didn't know."

"Good idea…" Wilson began. Suddenly, everyone's beepers started going off. They all looked down at the device.

"The kid is seizing," said Taub.

"But we have him sedated," Thirteen said.

"Discuss it while you get upstairs!" House ordered.

"It was nice to meet you," the team yelled to Lydia as they ran.

"The same to you," she called after them.

"I'm heading up, too," Wilson said. "Bye, Lydia. See you later." He turned and ran toward the building.

"Bye," she said. She turned to House and looked at her watch. "Oh no! I'm late picking up Annie."

"She hasn't sent out a search party, so don't worry." He looked at Lydia. "You were great before. You kept up with everything my team was discussing without batting an eye. As a matter of fact, you took the lead. I'm really proud of you." She looked at him thoughtfully.

"I took a parenting class as part of my course load. And one of the things we discussed is that to our children, to our friends, to our lovers, we always say 'I love you' and we would expect that, given the nature of the relationships. But we so often forget to tell people how proud we are of them and don't realize how much that can mean to them." Lydia moved in closer to House. "And for having the courage to open yourself to me, I am very proud of you." She kissed him very gently. House could feel himself well up, but knew he didn't have time for an emotional display right now.

"You picked one hell of a time to tell me that, because right now I'd like nothing more than to…" House's thought was interrupted by Lydia's cell phone.

"It's Annie sending out a search party," Lydia said as she looked at her phone.

"It's OK. I have to get inside." House gave her a kiss and let out a deep sigh. "Call me when things have settled in with the movers," he said as he started toward the building.

"OK. I love you," Lydia said as she quickly walked to the parking lot.

"I love you, too," House called back. He walked as quickly as he could to the building; his leg was hurting him far less than it had earlier.

Yeah, thought House to himself, I am lucky; my love is smart and beautiful….and she's got a great pair of legs on her, too.


	6. Chapter 6

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Six-"Bringing Up the Lights"

By: Purpleu

House made his way through the lobby to the elevators, thinking about what had just happened; Lydia and his team met, they seemed to genuinely like each other, Lydia joined in on the DDX and was in fact helpful…and none of this really bothered him. Personal life and professional met head on and no train wreck occurred. True, it's only a first meeting, but it wasn't that bad. House was unsure what to make of it; somehow he still felt uneasy with the concept. He sighed and pushed the button to call the elevator. Only time will tell.

"Dr. House!" House grimaced. He hated it when someone called out his name. It was either someone about to annoy him with something or bad news. He turned and saw the head cashier from the cafeteria walking quickly toward him.

"Dr. House, I need you to sign this for the food your employees ordered." She held out a clipboard and pen toward him. House frowned.

"Wasn't that all destroyed in the burning of Atlanta?" House said indicating the cafeteria with his head. The woman looked insulted.

"No, your department's order made it out before the smoke condition started," she said. "I wouldn't be asking you to sign for something we didn't actually serve."

"You're asking me to sign for food aren't you?" The woman thrust the clipboard out so that it was actually resting against House's arm.

"Dr. Wilson told me you would sign for it." House looked at her questioningly.

"Why would I do what Dr. Wilson said?"

"Because he's the Dean which makes him your boss."

"Co-Interim Dean," House corrected. "If you're going to elevate him to sainthood, at least get the title right. And as far as being in charge of me, that's only when we're playing Dungeons and Dragons, but I'm about to move up to the next level." The cashier let out an aggravated sigh.

"Just put your John Hancock on this so I can get back to work," she said once again nudging his arm with the clipboard and nearly waving the pen in his face.

"All right, if you insist," House said like a little kid being made to do something he really didn't want to. He scribbled across the bottom of the page quickly and handed the pen and board back to the cashier.

"Thank you. Enjoy your food." The elevator had arrived and House stepped into it. He turned and faced outward to the lobby.

"I will as soon as I figure out the antidote," he called out. The cashier walked away as the doors on the elevator car closed, proud of herself for getting House to sign. She looked down at the bottom of the board and rolled her eyes in disgust; there was what House wrote: John Hancock.

When the elevator doors opened on the ICU floor, House was pleased to hear a calm quiet rather than the chaos he had expected; however, that pleasure soon turned to pain as he saw Wilson standing by the nurses' station with his head in his hands. Wilson heard the sound of House's cane tapping on the floor, signaling his approach. He turned to look at House, his eyes widened with incredulousness.

"You are not going to believe this," Wilson said.

"I'll believe anything at this point," said House. "Lydia has already informed me that since her rug rats buy into the guy in the red suit, I have to play along. I suppose the overgrown rabbit who's obsessed with handing out painted, embryonic chickens is also in that realm of mythology." House looked at Wilson. "I may have to let them down with a thud."

"Don't you dare," admonished Wilson. "I thought you said you didn't want to screw this up? Breaking the kids' hearts is a big step on the road to disaster."

"I am not heading for Heartbreak Highway. I'm just trying to think about how far I can push the limits, so I can get a handle on everything. Yesterday morning I woke up wondering if I still had enough of a mind left to work a case; I wondered if my future wasn't on the mainline to Hell. Today I wake up with a beautiful woman next to me and I'm helping her plan her new life of which, I am a part. That's a bigger turnaround than if Lincoln had suddenly decided to become a slave owner." Wilson laughed.

"You certainly can't complain about her reaction to your team. Or them to her. They not only got along, they worked on a differential together." Wilson dropped his voice down. "And she gave us some ideas on how to possibly pull the rug out from underneath Hunter." House smiled.

"Dr. Kildare and Perry Mason all rolled into one," House remarked. "Guess I can't complain." He looked toward Tyler Hunter's room. "What's the story with the kid?"

"Got up here, nurses had taken appropriate actions, we pushed an anticonvulsant into his IV, Tyler's fine." Wilson looked at House. "Here's the kicker; I went down and got the printout of the labs. He shows traces of an antiepileptic drug in his body, Gabapentin. It's not on the paperwork that Hunter sent over, nor does the mother know anything about it. She says he had some seizures right after the accident, but when they took him over to St. James, the seizures stopped without explanation." House turned around and leaned against the counter with a smirk on his face.

"I can explain it, all right," he said. "The father already knows that his less than perfect son has something wrong with him; he doesn't want the world to know there's anything else. So along with all the other lies, he makes a lie of omission, has them leave it off the chart. The little bit of interaction he has with his son is a warped mixture of both open caring about his image and hidden disgust at what he's spawned."

"Epilepsy?" questioned Wilson. House nodded his head. "God, this kid was dealt a rough hand."

"The roughest part being the bastard he has for a father." House looked down at the floor. "I suspect he had gotten the script for Gabapentin from the doctors he's whipped over at St. James."

"How did you find out about Hunter handling cases against those doctors? You have some kind of inside source I should know about?" Wilson asked.

"Nope. The filings are a matter of public record. I was able to look them up before Lydia and I met you this morning," House said. "They had four doctors working on the kid's case: two primaries and two pediatric neurologists. One primary was retiring, so he'd probably say yes to anything to avoid the ordeal of facing Hunter in court." Wilson shook his head, still not comprehending House's knowledge of the doctors and their dealings with Hunter.

"You didn't even glance at the paperwork the team had spread out on the table. How do you know who the doctors were on the case? And that one of them was retiring?" House gave Wilson a look.

"You're definitely playing Watson to my Holmes. First, you told me that Foreman spoke to Dr. Murphy earlier, which actually confirmed what I looked up this morning; about three years ago, Hunter had filed a notice of intention to bring suit against Murphy and Carlson, the neurologists, along with Peters, the primary. Gottesman, the other primary was retiring and not part of the suit."

"Dr. Francis Gottesman," Wilson said. "I remember reading about the send-off they gave him at St. James; it was quite the shindig from what I heard."

"When you put fifty years in at the same hospital, it's the least they can do," House noted.

"Wait a minute, you knew about his retirement party?"

"Oddly enough, I was invited to it." House was amused to see the shocked look on Wilson's face. "I didn't go; I told them JLo had put in a request for me to do her pap smear and I just couldn't disappoint her." House saw that the door to Tyler's room was opening. "As far as the information I know: one, the internet is a wonderful thing. Two, standing behind Taub and looking over his shoulder while he peruses the file is easy. It didn't require any extra work on my part, which is just the way I like it." Foreman walked out of Tyler's room and over to House and Wilson.

"That poor woman is a wreck. She is completely overwhelmed thinking about the fact that her son has another major health problem," he said. "Not to mention there's probably a third since the laughing and hand-flapping and such can't be explained by CP or what looks like epilepsy." House walked over to the counter where Wilson and Foreman stood and slammed his fist down.

"We need the damn EEG. And now we can't do it with the anticonvulsant in him," he said. He rested his elbows on the counter dropped his head into his hands, much the way he found Wilson earlier.

"So, it's because of the high dose you had to give him just now that prevents the test. But what would happen if he was tested while on the Gabapentin?" questioned Wilson.

"We would conduct the test after lowering or even withholding the dose twelve hours before the test was conducted." Foreman said.

"And if we did the test without knowing that it was in his system, we would have gotten a false result," said House.

"You think the father had something to do with giving the kid the Gabapentin?" asked Foreman. House picked his head up and looked at Foreman and Wilson.

"I'm willing to bet my life on it." The two gave him a look.

"Let's hope that's not a prophetic choice of words," noted Wilson. House pushed off the counter and walked behind it to sit in an unoccupied chair.

"We've got to find out if there's a place where Hunter keeps any files tucked away for future use," he said. "As much as he wouldn't want anyone to know about his kid's problems, you never know when the information in those files would come in handy for ruining someone's life. I'm going to guess that he has not only the original files with the diagnosis of cerebral palsy, but the information needed to prove that he leaned on the doctors that signed off on the false information in his lawsuit relating to the accident." Foreman looked a little confused.

"House went on line this morning after I called him and found in public records that Hunter had filed a notice of intention in relation to a suit against three of the four doctors that treated Tyler at St. James," Wilson explained seeing the puzzled look on Foreman's face.

"But lawyers usually file suits against everyone, even people seemingly unrelated to the case, just to cover themselves." Foreman observed. "Why leave out one doctor?"

"The doctor in question was retiring. He didn't give a crap," said House. Foreman nodded his head in understanding.

"Look, I did my residency with Jack Murphy. We weren't best buddies or anything, but we did get along well. Maybe I can talk to him. The question is, what do you want from him?" asked Foreman. House leaned forward in the chair and picked up the pen that was sitting on the desk and began rhythmically tapping it on the edge of the desk.

"He's got to be willing to nail Hunter's hide to the wall; come out and say that he was coerced into falsifying both the kid's medical records and the court documents used by Hunter in the suit. And then he has to talk his two fellow conspirators into admitting the same."

"Whoa, House, slow down," said Wilson. "Do you realize what you're asking these three to do? Their medical licenses will be suspended, they'll face legal complications….the list goes on." House smirked and shook his head.

"Having your medical license suspended is no big deal," House said dismissively. "Been there, done that, have the T-shirt, it's starting to fade. If I can get mine back as many times as I have, those guys have nothing to worry about." Wilson and Foreman nodded their heads in agreement. "As far as legal complications, the DA will probably offer them immunity from prosecution. Hunter is not on anyone's good side. He's screwed up several cases coming out of the DA's office, yet they've never gone after him. The state medical licensing board would love it if he was put out of commission. He's wasted their time with tons of frivolous lawsuits." Foreman regarded House with curiosity.

"How do you know all this about Hunter? You didn't find all this on the internet just this morning."

"You've been profiling him," Wilson said with dawning recognition. "You've been collecting all this information to use if he came after you."

"Not if," said House, "When. I knew he would get around to me one day. I'm like a piece of smelly cheese set out in a mousetrap and he's the rat who can't resist a free meal." Foreman tapped the tip of his right shoe against the counter as he looked over at House and Wilson.

"I can give Jack a call and see if I can set up a meeting with him for tomorrow. I'll explain to him what we know, what we suspect and see what I can talk him into," he said. "I can't make any guarantees."

"You don't think that they could be so afraid of Hunter that they wouldn't want to testify against him? Or worse, tip him off?" asked Wilson. House made a face.

"Let's hope not," he said. House noticed Wilson looking around the corner of the nurses' station and saw a nurse and an aide approach Tyler's room with clean linens, a gown and towels as well as a wash basin and toiletries.

"We were going to go in and get him cleaned up now, Dr. Foreman," said the nurse. "Do you think there's any chance to getting Mrs. Hunter to step out? It won't just make things easier for us; I think it's something she needs right now."

"Thirteen's working on that," said Chase as he and Taub emerged from the room. "She needs to get something to eat, for sure. A few hours of sleep would do her good, too."

"How are we going to approach the EEG?" asked Taub. "The cleaner his system is, the truer the reading; but if we take him off his medicine…"

"The medicine we didn't even know he was on," interrupted House.

"…there's a chance he could seize again," Taub continued.

"He had to be on a really small dose, below what it should have been," said Chase, "Or the Gabapentin was stopped a few days ago, leaving only the trace amounts in his body." House's eyes darted quickly about as he assessed the situation.

"So Hunter was counting on us not noticing the presence of the drug or he figured we'd chalk it up to an anomaly and ignore it. He was counting on us doing the EEG on the kid before he seized," House said.

"But what good would that do? The abnormalities that would indicate epilepsy would still be there, with or without the medication, with or without him having a seizure," Taub observed.

"Yes, but if the tadpole started thrashing about after the test, guess who Hunter would blame for the problem?" House got up and walked out from behind the counter. "Even though the test is non-invasive, he'd find a way to make us look like the bad guys." He paused for a moment, then turned to look at Wilson. "I misspoke earlier. He's not going directly after me; he's going to get to me by taking down my team." All stood and stared at each other in disbelief. As Wilson was shaking his head, he noticed that the nurse and aide were still standing nearby.

"Um…I think maybe we should take this back to the conference room. I'll just poke my head in and tell Thirteen…"

"Dr. Wilson, you don't have to worry about trash talking Malcolm Hunter, not in front of us, anyway," said the nurse whose name was Terri. "Kris and I," she said indicating the aide, "are sisters-in-law. I'm married to her brother. Malcolm Hunter ruined the career of Kris's sister, who was also a nurse. She lost her job and her license because he twisted the truth around and made her look not only incompetent, but lying and deceitful as well. That man has to be stopped."

"I hope the son-of-a-bitch burns in Hell," said Kris. At that moment, everyone became aware of the fact that Jeanne Hunter was standing in the hallway outside of her son's room, with Thirteen standing directly behind her.

"You have company in that wish," Jeanne said. "Dr. Foreman, Dr. Wilson, is there any way I can prevent my husband from having access to Tyler? I am becoming fully aware of what my husband has done to hurt my son; I don't want him to have the chance to do him any more harm." Terri, the nurse caught Wilson's eye.

"We're going to step inside and get Tyler cleaned up and comfortable," she said.

"Great. I think Dr. Foreman is going to be writing some orders on how we want the anticonvulsant handled so we can get the EEG done first thing in the morning."

"Let's bring the bull's eye even closer to him," said House. "I'll write the orders. If it's me he wants, and we all know it is, then it's me he's going to get." Terri nodded as she and Kris stepped inside Tyler's room. "What happened that he needs to be cleaned up?"

"I had left the dish with his cereal and his juice cup on his bed tray and when he had the seizure, everything went flying. He's a sticky mess right now," Jeanne said with a little catch in her voice.

"They'll get him all cleaned up, don't worry," Thirteen said. Jeanne nodded her head. She looked at Wilson.

"Now, how do I stop Malcolm from coming near Tyler?" House felt his cell phone vibrate as Mrs. Hunter asked the question. He knew it would require her going to court; there was only so much the hospital could do to prevent Malcolm from having access to his son. As his cell phone continued to vibrate, he became increasingly annoyed. He needed to focus on what was happening here, not…House thought for a second and realized the only person who would be calling him was Lydia. She knew he was busy with the case; if anything she would text him. Taking a few steps away from the group, House pulled his cell phone out and saw that it was, indeed, Lydia.

"Hey, what's up?" he said quickly and quietly. "I really can't talk right now." He glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw it was almost 5:30. "The movers get there?" He heard what seemed to be a sniffling sound coming from the other end of the phone, but didn't pay much attention to it; he was trying to concentrate on what Jeanne Hunter was saying.

"Jeff thinks he has an idea where Malcolm may be hiding the files, so he's going to try…"

"Greg, are you there?" Lydia asked. House had been looking over at Mrs. Hunter to try and focus on what she was saying; now he looked away and down the hall.

"Yeah, I'm here. What's up?"

"You asked me that already. You also asked me if the movers got here and I said yes, but there was a problem." House's attention had turned back to Mrs. Hunter.

"I'll go to family court tonight and get a temporary restraining order if I have to…" That was the last thing House wanted her to do; if Malcolm Hunter was tipped off about their investigation of him, everything would be for naught.

"Greg, I'll talk to you later. You…you're busy." House started to walk back to the nurses' station where everyone was gathered.

"Yeah, later." House hung up his phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Mrs. Hunter, I don't know if you could get a judge to listen to a request at this hour," Wilson was saying.

"Besides, I don't think we're ready to unzip our fly," House chimed in. "We need to have proof of a few things before we do that. Some of what you're going to need to help us with won't make for a very pleasant marital environment. Or is that no longer an issue for you?" She gave House a steely stare.

"It's common knowledge that my marriage is a sham. My love for my child is not." House nodded.

"You were saying something before about your husband hiding some files and you might know where they are?"

"Jeff has an idea where they could be. He's looking for them now."

"Isn't there a chance that Hunter could catch him looking for the files?" asked Chase. Jeanne shook her head.

"Malcolm texted me when he got out of court. He was going back home to change for some sort of dinner function he had to attend tonight. Most of the office is going, including Jeff. He was going to show up, take attendance so he knew who was there and then make an excuse of not feeling well to Malcolm. Not that Malcolm would care who was there and who wasn't as long as a certain person was there to keep him entertained," Jeanne said.

"So he was going to go back to the office and look for the file?" asked Foreman. "Isn't that a bit risky?"

"Yeah, but it paid off," a voice from down the hall said. Everyone turned to see Jeffrey Davidson walking briskly toward them. "I haven't had a chance to look them over, but hopefully you'll find what you're looking for in here." He said indicating the large accordion folder he was holding in his hands. House noticed Davidson was wearing a pair of latex gloves.

"Where did you steal those from?" House asked indicating Davidson's hands.

"I grabbed a couple of pairs from the box up on the wall outside Tyler's room."

"Thought maybe you did this kind of detective work all the time and kept a spare pair on you," said House.

"No, but I've seen Malcolm have things fingerprinted when it seems an opponent has a little too much information and is getting the better of him. He assumes there are gremlins in every nook and cranny."

"So not only does he not like to lose, he's paranoid as well," noted Wilson. "Great combination." House's eyes were focused on the wall near Tyler's room.

"Everybody grab several pairs of gloves. That includes you two," he said indicating Mrs. Hunter and Davidson. "Put a pair on." House did likewise. "Take the files from him," he directed Chase. Davidson carefully handed it over. "You two," he said to Taub and Thirteen . "Go down to the clinic and steal a roll of exam table paper. If anyone wants to know what you're doing with it, tell them you're protecting the conference room table so the food from the cafeteria doesn't disintegrate it. After you line the table with the exam paper, lay the files out on the table front to back as they sit in the folder from left to right on the table. That way we keep things in order and can put them back the same way," House said looking at Davidson. He nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes and don't remove any staples. All of the pages have enough bends in them so that folding back the pages won't be noticed," commented Davidson.

"Duly noted. Go make copies of each file, notes from the hospital when he was born, any follow ups with doctors, any test results, therapists' notes. Try to keep them in order as you make the copies; I'm willing to bet Hunter has them in chronological order by year. Go." Taub, Thirteen and Chase took off down the hall. "Use more than one copy machine," House called out. "Those files have to go back before someone notices they're gone." House turned to Foreman. "Go call Murphy and set something up with him for tomorrow, late morning or early afternoon."

"Why not first thing?"

"I want you to do the EEG, since you claim that neurology is your specialty." Foreman made a face.

"It is my specialty."

"That's why I want you here." Foreman smiled a little when he realized that House was giving him a compliment in own unique way.

"I'll go set things up. Is there any point to us staying around tonight? We can't do much of anything until the Gabapentin wears off," said Foreman. House thought for a moment.

"I want someone here in case he seizes as he comes off the drug."

"I'd like it if Dr. Hadley could stay," Jeanne Hunter said. "She's very comforting and very competent."

"Of course," said Wilson as House nodded his head in agreement. "I'll arrange for another Geri-chair to be brought into the room."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to head off and give Jack Murphy a call. I'll see you all tomorrow," Foreman said as he went down the hall.

"By the way, how did you get the key to where Hunter had the files hidden?" asked House of Davidson.

"When Jeanne first started mentioning the idea of taking Tyler to get another opinion, I noticed that one particular drawer on a file cabinet in his office had become a part of Malcolm's ritual when he left the office. He'd always go over and make sure it was locked. Thought maybe the files were in there. Last week, when we were in a negotiating session that went late, Malcolm wanted a file that had been left back at the office. I told him I had forgotten my keys; I'm sure he thought I was an idiot, but I got what I needed." Davidson held up a key on a single silver ring. "I confirmed that Tyler's medical file was in there, made a copy of the key on the way back to the meeting."

"Impressive," said House with a certain amount of respect in his tone. "Adds to the feeling that we're in the middle of a spy novel."

"That's life with Malcolm," Jeanne said. "You're always looking over your shoulder, always questioned about things, and always lied to." House caught a glimpse of Davison out of the corner of his eye and saw the look of concern he held toward Jeanne. There was a time when House wouldn't feel any empathy or sympathy for either of them; somehow, he now felt both.

"Mrs. Hunter, you need to get something to eat and to sit down for a little bit," Wilson said.

"I'd rather stay near to my son and out of sight from the general public. Malcolm kept telling me to keep a low profile so no one knows we're here."

"Do you really feel the need to do what that troll tells you to do?" asked House. Jeanne Hunter looked down at the floor.

"It would be one less thing to argue about."

"We have some food we ordered before the smoke condition occurred and in fact it was sent up right before the problem happened. It's nothing fancy and we'd have to warm it in the microwave, but…" Wilson offered.

"That would be fine," she said gratefully.

"Keep the food away from the conference room. Hopefully Moe, Larry and Curly remembered to wipe the table down before laying everything out," commented House. "Use my office. Move some of the chairs in there and use them as tables."

"I'll make sure they're all cleaned up," Wilson said. House shrugged.

"It's their butts, not mine." House walked around the counter to search for Tyler's chart. "I'm going to write the orders for the Gabapentin and then wait for the change of shift to come in. I want to be here when they give the notes to the next crew." He sat down in the chair he had been in earlier. "Before you even step foot into the office down there, put the gloves on," House said taking note of the fact that their hands were bare. "We don't want any evidence that you two were down there. It doesn't matter for me up here," he said as he took off the gloves he had put on earlier. "I want my fingerprints to be all over this." With the tips of his fingers, House began to touch everything within his reach. Wilson just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I'll see you in your office. Oh and House," Wilson said. "Don't make the nurses hate you any more than they already do."

"Those two don't hate me," House said indicating Terri and Kris who were in Tyler's room. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Wilson nodded in agreement and led Jeffery Davidson and Jeanne Hunter to the elevators.

uH


	7. Chapter 7

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Seven-"Casting the Parts"

By: Purpleu

House let out a deep sigh. This most certainly was one of the more complicated cases he ever had to deal with. It wasn't just the medicine; he'd dealt with worse in the past. It was the combination of elements being presented: the medicine, the stress of Malcolm Hunter breathing down his neck and his total disgust with the way Hunter treated his son. House knew he was breaking his own rule: don't make it personal. For some reason, House couldn't help but see the similarities between his father and Hunter. Both were Alpha-Males who drove the women in their lives into the arms of other men. They needed the illusion of a happy family to enhance their professional images, so they had a child; but when that child turned out to be a disappointment or less than perfect, they had no problem abusing and emotionally abandoning them or worse in Hunter's case. He's willing to use his own son as a pawn, endangering his welfare just to get to me, thought House. And they call me an ass.

As he made his way down the hall to his office, House went over what was left to do tonight; since Tyler's having a seizure was delaying an EEG, the only other thing would be to finish copying the files that Davidson had snagged from Hunter's office and get them back before anyone knew they were gone. House had to admire what Davidson was doing: putting his own butt on the line to help Jeanne Hunter with her son. But, then again, love can make you do crazy things. After Davidson leaves with the files, House figured he might as well call Lydia and see how things were going with the movers. He vaguely recalled her saying something about a problem when he spoke to her earlier, but couldn't remember what the problem was. He pulled his cell phone out and leaned against the wall in the hallway. He saw that he had a text message from Lydia, sent about ten minutes ago. Good, thought House, maybe we can grab something to eat. He shook his head as he opened the message; he had never imagined drawing so much pleasure from something as simple as having dinner with his girlfriend. House was in a decent mood, all things considered; that changed as soon as he saw the text.

"Sorry I interrupted you earlier. Sounds like things are pretty intense over there. You will probably be late. I am going to my friend's house to stay. I really could use some company after what happened today. Call me when you get home and we can talk. I love you."

When House finished reading the message, he looked up and down the hall in disbelief. Why was she going to her friend's house? Why wasn't she waiting to talk to him? She could at least tell him what was going on. For just a moment, House was about to feel annoyed; then he realized that she had tried to tell him what was wrong, but he was too absorbed in the case to have paid attention to what she was saying. House hung his head down as images from the time he spent in the medical coma flashed through his head: Cuddy accusing him of not being there for her when she needed him, accusing him of thinking only of himself. Then he remembered saying that loving her made him a worse doctor, but that he would always choose her. House knew that was an insane thing to say; he would never choose anyone over solving a case, not even Lydia. House smiled; the great thing was that Lydia would never make him choose. She understood that solving medical mysteries is what he was all about and would graciously step aside and let him do his thing; but you can't expect a person to be willing to take second place in your life on a regular basis. As much as he loved Stacy, that was exactly how he drove her away; House was not about to let history repeat itself. He looked at his phone and pushed Lydia's speed dial setting.

"Hi! I didn't think I would be hearing from you so soon," Lydia said as she answered the call.

"Well, when a guy gets a message that his girlfriend is abandoning him for the night, it usually prompts an immediate response. Or at least it should."

"I'm not abandoning you," Lydia said with a hurt tone in her voice, "It's just that I didn't want you to feel that you had to rush home because I was waiting there. I know that this case is even more important than usual and I didn't want to take your attention away from what was going on there. The call I made to you earlier obviously came at a bad time." House was hesitant to say anything for fear of hurting Lydia's feelings, but he wanted to try and be honest, something he wasn't entirely used to.

"Yeah, you had really bad timing earlier. The kid's mother wanted to go and get a restraining order against Hunter which would have tipped our hand. I had to make sure that she was convinced otherwise." House took a deep breath. "That doesn't excuse the fact that I could tell that you were upset and should have called back sooner. I have blinders on when it comes to a case. It's been me, medicine and I for a long while now and there's a very short list I consider when prioritizing the things in my life. As much as I want to tell you that you'll always be number one on the list, the truth is you won't be." House squeezed his eyes shut as he said the next words. "I can't even say you'll be number two." There was silence from the other end of the phone. House opened his eyes and prepared himself for whatever reaction Lydia might have.

"I never expected to be number one in your life. When we talked back at Mayfield, and you told me about different cases you had worked on and how you figured them out, I knew where your passions lay. Your whole face, your whole manner, the way you held yourself, changed when you talked about your work. It…it was wonderful to see how much your work meant to you. I felt…special when you showed signs of that passion toward me and I don't mean just physically; you talked more and more about Annie and what could be wrong with her the more I talked about how upset I was over the situation. You turned that intensity toward something that mattered to me," Lydia said. "I was touched that you were willing to share that gift with me."

"I would have paid attention to Annie's case no matter what; there wasn't too much else to do in that place, other than watch paranoid guy hide from orbiting satellites," House said.

"You could have worked on Alvie's case or anyone else's. You chose to consider the mystery of Annie's case after getting to know me. It was the first time you let me in," said Lydia. "You looked at Annie's situation because you cared about me. You put me on your 'list'." House heard a little catch in her voice. "It was the first time any man had put me on their list. And it was then I knew I was falling in love with you." House closed his eyes and swallowed hard to hide his emotions; he was aware of people passing by in the hallway and didn't want anyone stopping to ask him if he was OK. Of course he was OK; he was loved by the most amazing woman in the world. He in return, was falling more and more in love with her as they put the pieces of their lives together. The whole thing scared the hell out of him; but as someone once said, if you want something you never had, you have to be willing to do something you've never done before. House cleared his throat before speaking.

"Where are you now?" he asked.

"I'm just a few blocks from your apartment," said Lydia. "When I saw it was you calling, I pulled over; I figured we would be talking for a while." House smiled.

"Yeah, we're never at a loss for words with each other. Look, I want to see you. I'm getting out of here in half an hour, an hour at most." House took a deep breath. "Please go back to my apartment and wait for me; I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Greg, you must be exhausted. You didn't get much sleep last night and the stress of dealing with this case has to be overwhelming. You probably want nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep."

"No, what I want is to lie back on my couch, wrap my arms around you and hear about your day. You were already a big part of my day earlier when you stopped by the hospital and helped with the case. It's my turn to be a part of yours."

"I didn't really do anything to help with the case. I just threw out a few thoughts and talked about some things I observed in the past," noted Lydia.

"Combine that with proper medical training and you have the makings of a differential diagnosis," House explained. "It's what I sometimes have to remind my team about. Don't just go by what you know from a textbook; apply what you know from life." Damn, House thought; here I am talking about medicine when I should be convincing Lydia to go back to my place. Idiot. "Forget about that stuff," House said quickly. "The car goes in more than one direction; put it in reverse and head back to my place. Please." Lydia was quiet for a moment.

"I can't," she finally said.

"Why not?"

"There's a car parked behind me. If I put my car in reverse, I'll hit it." House winced and shook his head as he laughed. She's a cuter version of me, he thought.

"Then employ all the driving skills you used to pass your road test many moons ago, get out of the parking spot and head over to my apartment. Have you eaten dinner?"

"Not exactly. Annie was here when things hit the fan and she insisted I eat something before she left. I had no appetite, but I knew if I didn't eat, I'd get a headache; more than the one I already had."

"What the hell happened?" asked House. Lydia sighed.

"I'll give you the details later, but basically…." House could hear her voice waver a bit. "Do you remember this morning when I listed the furniture that had to go into the storage facility, I mentioned my grandmother's rocker?" House thought for a moment.

"Honestly, no; but a lot has happened since then. The moving gorillas damaged it?"

"More like smashed it," Lydia said quietly. "It's sitting on your living room floor in about five or six pieces."

"What did they do, play moving van pong with it?" House began to pace back and forth in the hall, agitated and pissed. He was thinking that if it had just been chipped or scraped up, they could take it to a restoration expert, House would pay for it and look like a hero; maybe even make up for blowing her off earlier. But smashed into several pieces? That didn't hold much potential for him to swoop in and save the day.

"It's a long story. I'd rather tell you when I have a better supply of tissues handy. Have you eaten yet?" House let out a disgusted laugh.

"I never even got to touch the poison they ordered from the cafeteria. The last thing I've eaten today are the eggs and toast you made this morning. Amazingly, they have sustained me through now. By the time I get out of here, I will need something. You feel like pizza?" House asked.

"That would be fine," Lydia replied. "Any particular toppings or place I should get it from?" House thought for a moment.

"Yeah, there's a place called La Rosa's over on Clarkson Road. It's not far and their pizza's fantastic. As far as toppings, any kind of meat is fine."

"Sounds good. Should I go get it now?"

"Yeah; by the time they make it up and you get it to my place, I won't be too far behind you. There's not much more to do at this point, other than make a break for it," said House as he walked slowly toward his office.

"Fine; you plan your escape, I'll take care of the food and I'll see you at your place in about half an hour."

"Maybe forty-five minutes. It all depends on how much of a little old lady Wilson decides to be when driving."

"Do you want me to pick you up?" Lydia asked.

"Nah, I've got to make sure one thing in particular is done right; if it gets screwed up, we'll all be in a cell and not a padded one like I had at Mayfield. Besides, I don't think they allow conjugal visits at the local jail." Lydia laughed.

"In that case, go take care of things and I'll see you in a little while. I love you." House smiled.

"I love you, too,' he said quietly as he drew near his office. He ended the call and took a deep breath as he got back into a workplace mindset. Lydia didn't make him a worse doctor; she just made him more human. And when dealing with Malcolm Hunter, that was a sure way to failure. Steeling himself for what lay ahead, he walked into the conference room, ready for anything. He saw Wilson compiling and stapling piles of paper. Chase and Thirteen were very carefully taking small packs of paper from the main conference table and placing them into the portfolio that Jeffery Davidson had stolen from Hunter's office. Davidson was standing next to them with a pad of paper that appeared to contain a checklist of some sort; Davidson was making a mark on the pad each time a group of papers were put back into the portfolio. Jeanne Hunter was sitting in House's office looking exhausted and miserable. House wanted to have some kind of sympathy for her, but it was hard; she's the one who chose to marry Hunter. Looking at her as a mother though, he could muster up some kind feelings; he imagined how Lydia would feel if this was happening to one of her kids.

"Where do we stand with things?" House asked Wilson as he picked up one of the packets and began to read it over. Wilson shot House a look.

"Just when I begin to think that I couldn't hate Malcolm Hunter any more than I already do, I read another report or set of test results and it sickens me." Wilson said. "He knew that the doctors suspected cerebral palsy from the age of fifteen months when Tyler began to display signs of developmental delay. It was recommended that the child get PT, OT and speech therapy three times a week each; Tyler only received speech twice a week and PT once a week. The therapists' reports are all in here. They even come out and say that Hunter refused the recommended treatments for his son."

"Were these private therapists or through a doctor's referral?" House asked.

"Through their pediatrician. But, they also switched doctors right after receiving the reports."

"The truth was hidden by avoidance," said House. "Just like an addict goes from doctor to doctor, pharmacy to pharmacy to get the pills they need." House saw Wilson giving him a knowing look. "Yes, it's a subject I'm very familiar with, I'll admit it."

"You _were_ familiar with," Wilson corrected. House nodded.

"True; But I think if I didn't have Lydia right now, I would be tumbling far down the slippery slope of Vicodin," House acknowledged. "My leg is killing me."

"Actual physical pain or psychosomatic from dealing with this?" Wilson asked as he gestured around the office.

"Probably a little bit of both. I know you don't want to hear about my romantic escapades with Lydia 'cause you're going to get really jealous and all that, but I was more physically active in the last twenty-four hours that I have been in the past year or so. As a matter of fact, I think the last time I did this much cardiovascular work was when Lydia and I used go for walks on the grounds at Mayfield. She'd visit with Annie for a while, talk with her, played the piano for her, and beg her to come back to the land of the living. I knew what she was doing was hopeless, that there had to be a trigger, a stimulus to release Annie from la-la land, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I couldn't tell her she'd probably lost her best friend forever. So, we'd take walks; I'd talk about medicine and music, she'd talk about music and how brilliant Annie was on the cello. Nothing too personal until we saw each other yesterday."

"And then the flood gates opened," noted Wilson. "Face it, you two fell in love back at Mayfield; it took until yesterday for life to get out of the way and let you be together." House smiled slightly and shook his head in agreement.

"What else has the Wicked Warlock of the West done to his kid?" Wilson flipped through the packets of paper and handed one to House.

"The doctors at St. James Hospital diagnosed him almost three years ago as mildly autistic with epilepsy secondary to the autism. The pediatric neurologists wrote the script for the Gabapentin. Obviously Hunter was giving it to Tyler without Mrs. Hunter's knowledge."

"Mrs. Hunter told me that the nannies they hired to help with Tyler kept quitting, saying they couldn't handle the situation," said Thirteen who had walked over to House and Wilson. "Maybe what they couldn't handle is giving Tyler the medication without Mrs. Hunter's knowledge."

"Sure," said Chase who had joined the group. "If Hunter gives them the meds, tells the nannies to give it to the kid, then he can honestly say he never administered anything to Tyler." House smirked.

"Keeping his hands clean at all times," House said ruefully. He looked at Thirteen and Chase and noticed the absence of Taub. "Where's the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man?"

"I assume you mean Taub," Wilson said. "He went home. His wife picked up a case of food poisoning from where they had dinner last night and the vomiting returned. We were finished with all the copying, so I told him to go home and see what he could do to help her."

"She probably ate her own cooking," said House. He turned to look into his office and saw Jeffery Davidson holding the portfolio as he sat speaking to Jeanne Hunter. House knew Davidson had to get out of here and get that file back into Hunter's office. "Everything back in the file?" House asked, indicating Davidson with his head.

"Yeah; he made a list as we took each thing out in order and checked each group of papers as we put them back in," Chase said. "We all kept the gloves on the whole time."

"But did you breathe on them?" asked House. "'Cause that's traceable you know." Chase and Thirteen gave him a look.

"We worked with bated breath," answered Thirteen. "Mrs. Hunter asked that I stay with her since one of us was going to remain here to monitor Tyler. I said no problem. I'm going to try and get her to go to her son's room and settle in. Maybe that way she can finally get some sleep. Did you get a chance to speak to the incoming nursing shift?" she asked House.

"Yeah. Turns out they're all members of the 'Malcolm Hunter is a Dick' fan club. He won't get anywhere close to the kid with that crew up there. I think there's something in the DNA of anyone who works a nightshift that won't allow them to put up with anyone's bull dinky."

"Where do you want to keep these files?" Wilson asked indicating the copies that were made. House thought for a moment.

"I don't want to leave them here. One of us should take them home. Maybe more than one of us."

"Divide the file between the three of us?" asked Chase indicating himself, Wilson and House. "Sounds a little paranoid."

"That's what Hunter does to you," said Jeffery Davidson as he walked over with the original files. "Dealing with him is like being part of a John Le Carre novel."

"I'm a Tom Clancy man myself," noted House. "I think since Jack Ryan is an analyst, he is way cooler than Jason Bourne." Davidson laughed.

"Whoever you favor makes no difference; the fact is Hunter keeps you looking over your shoulder."

"Can I ask why you went to work for him?" Wilson asked. "Surely his reputation preceded him." Davidson looked down at the floor.

"I had my own practice as a CPA. I started it four years before I joined Hunter's firm. My practice was very successful, but small; it was I and two other CPA's. Getting health insurance for a small business was astronomically expensive. I needed to have extensive rather than just basic coverage because my daughter had cancer. My wife's ex was killed in a car accident when Katie was two. I'm the only man who really played the part of Dad in her life since her biological father lived a thousand miles away and never wanted the role in her life anyway. So I closed down my practice and went to work for Hunter when he made the offer."

"You knew him beforehand?" Chase asked. Davidson nodded.

"I had done a great deal of work for various law firms and we had met several times. When I put the word out that I was closing down my practice and looking to join an established firm, Malcolm came forward with an offer. The money was sufficient and more importantly, it had company paid health insurance."

"Why have an in-house accountant?" Wilson asked.

"Better to keep the cook closer to the kitchen," House said. "Any unethical dealings would be less likely reported by an employee of the firm; especially one that needed the health insurance Hunter had to offer. Is your stepdaughter still alive?" Davidson glared at House.

"No. And she was my daughter. You don't need to have your DNA be a part of a child to have them be your own. You just have to love them." House nodded in agreement. Sensing the awkwardness of the situation, Wilson spoke up.

"Well, I think we will each take a part of the files to be on the safe side," he said looking at House and Chase. "Thank you so much for bringing them. I'm sure they'll be of great help in diagnosing Tyler and reining in Hunter."

"Glad I could help. I just want to say good-bye to Jeanne and then be on my way." Davidson turned to Thirteen. "Please try to get her to rest. I don't know how long it's been since she's had a decent night's sleep."

"I'll do what I can," said Thirteen reassuringly. "I'm going to need to sleep at some point myself."

"Thank you, I'll be by at some point tomorrow; I need to spend some time in the office to make things look good."

"Do us a favor in the midst of all this cloak and dagger stuff going on," said House. "Do you have you own cell phone or is it standard company issue?"

"I have my own. I use it rather than the company phone to call Jeanne." House nodded.

"Jack Ryan would be proud. Text her after the file is back in place. Just type 'Done'. It won't give anything away in case they've tapped your phone."

"Why would Hunter tap my phone? And if they've tapped it, then Malcolm knows about Jeanne and me." House smirked.

"Hunter couldn't care less that you're banging his wife; it means everything in the world to him if you're screwing with his plans to bring me and my team down," noted House. Davidson was obviously uncomfortable as he looked in the direction of House's office.

"I'm going to say goodnight to Jeanne now. Goodnight, all." With that, Davidson walked to Jeanne and began to speak to her.

"You know. I think we ought to all chip in and buy you some lessons in subtlety and discretion," Thirteen said to House.

"Why meddle with perfection?" House turned so his back was to his office and he was facing Chase and Thirteen. "Any mention in the files as to what's causing the kid to act like a cross between a hyena and a seagull?"

"They classified it as a coping mechanism for all his other problems," said Chase. "It's got to be more than that."

"A coping mechanism for a six year old is a bowl of Lucky Charms and a SpongeBob marathon. It's got to be neurological," House said.

"Look, let's call it a night and get some rest. Maybe a good night's sleep will give us a clearer view of things tomorrow," Wilson said. Chase, Thirteen and House all nodded their heads and headed to House's office to dispose of the empty food containers and get Jeanne Hunter to her son's room.

"Mrs. Hunter, why don't we go to Tyler's room and settle in for the night?" asked Thirteen. "I'm sure you'd like to see him."

"Yes, yes I would," she said as she stood. She followed Thirteen to the door of the conference room, stopped and looked at the others. "Thank you for everything you're trying to do for my son, despite who and what my husband is."

"A patient is a patient," House said. "They don't deserve to be treated any better or any worse no matter who nature threw at them for a sperm donor." Jeanne Hunter didn't know how to respond to what House said, so she simply turned and walked with Thirteen down the hall. Wilson looked at House and shook his head.

"I keep hoping that there is some part of you that knows when to shut up. Obviously I'm wrong."

"What did I say that was so terrible?" House asked. "I said all patients should be treated equally without regard to the unfortunate circumstances of who their mother successfully mated with. Where's the harm in what I said?" Chase and Wilson looked at each other.

"He does have a point…" Chase began.

"Don't…just…don't encourage him," Wilson begged. Chase laughed.

"On that note, I'll dump this in the trash barrel in the cafeteria on my way out," he said as he stuffed the last of the garbage into a bag.

"Thanks," Wilson said. "Did you grab part of the file?"

"Yeah; I've got birth to the accident."

"Good. Forman should be starting the test around seven-thirty, eight o'clock."

"I'll see you then. G'night." Chase walked away down the hall.

"I'll take the part of the file that concerns the accident and you get the part from St. James Hospital," Wilson said handing House the paperwork.

"Let me get this into my backpack and then let's get the hell out of here. Lydia's picking up pizza and I don't want her to wait too long for me." House glanced over at Wilson and saw that he was trying to suppress a smile.

"What's the matter?" House asked.

"Nothing," Wilson said as they left the conference room. House shot him a look.

"Don't give me that crap. I've known you too long and too well. And I don't mean all the times I've stood behind you as you've taken something out of the oven."

"I just can't believe I'm hearing you say you want to get home to the little woman. I would have bet my entire life's savings that it was something that would never happen."

"After three divorces, your life's saving doesn't amount to much," House said. "Lydia had a bad day and when she called to tell me about it, I kind of blew her off. Actually, I didn't pay any attention to her at all. I want to try and make up for it and see if there's anything I can do." The elevator doors opened and the two of them stepped in. The doors closed as Wilson pressed the button for the lobby.

"Yeah, I heard the rocker is in pretty bad shape." House turned to look at Wilson.

"Okay, where'd you put it?" House asked as he patted down his pockets.

"Where did I put what?"

"The bug you used to listen in on my conversation with Lydia. Oh, and she was only kidding about trying that ménage-a-trios." Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Annie texted me. She wanted to know if everything was OK since you were more than a little distracted with Lydia." House gave Wilson a grin.

"Oooh, you have each other's cell numbers. I'm impressed. Nowadays that's considered first base. How bad did Annie say the rocker was?" House inquired becoming serious. Wilson shrugged.

"Anytime a piece of furniture gets described as 'heartbreaking to look at', it can't be good. Annie said to text her; she wants to talk to you about a couple of things. She's in rehearsal for the mini concert next Thursday. They were able to get a small theater over at the college for free, so it will be a nice showcase for the groups that are performing." Wilson picked up his briefcase and made his way to the door. "Let's get out of here." House nodded absentmindedly as he continued texting Annie as they headed out the door.

Wilson went the most direct route he knew to House's apartment; he didn't run any red lights or blow away any stop signs as House had requested, but he did get House home pretty quickly.

"Everything OK?" Wilson asked as he double parked by House's door. He saw that House was still texting furiously.

"Yeah," House said as he hit send. "Why?"

"You and Annie were going back and forth quite a bit." House gave Wilson a look.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. I also texted Lydia to let her know I was on my way. Then I started having textsex with her and I got completely distracted."

"Textsex?" Wilson asked slowly. House rolled his head in disbelief.

"It's the same thing as phone sex only…am I going to have to take you for another long drive in the country so I can explain this all again? Jeeze, someone better warn Annie." Wilson put up his hands.

"Don't…stay out of my…I give up." He dropped his hands and stared out the driver's side window. House smiled as he picked up his backpack and opened the car door.

"Thanks for the ride."

"Tomorrow at seven-fifteen?" asked Wilson. House sighed in disgust.

"Yeah, I want to be there when Foreman's doing the test. At least if we show confirmation of what the doctor at the other hospital found, it will strengthen the validity of any other results we come up with. I'll drive myself tomorrow; I know where the hospital is."

"It's OK, I don't mind. At least we get a chance to talk about the case and Annie and Lydia and…stuff. I enjoy it. I missed it when you were in the coma." House cocked his head to the side and considered Wilson's words.

"I can't say I missed it," said House. "'Cause I didn't know what I was missing. 'Cause I was in a coma." Wilson shook his head and laughed.

"I'll look over the files I have tonight and see if I can spot anything. I feel like I'm not really doing anything to help with all this." Frustration was clearly present in Wilson's voice.

"Your diplomacy skills are impeccable and as always, you do a great job as my moral compass. Just because I don't follow directions well, doesn't mean they aren't good and accurate." Wilson smiled.

"Thanks," he said. "See you in the morning." House grabbed his cane and stood up. Using the end of it, he pushed the car door closed. He watched as Wilson pulled away, then made his way into the building. He stopped in front of his apartment door, fiddling with his keys. Just as he put the key in the lock and was about to turn it, the door swung open. There stood Lydia with a beautiful smile on her face. He stepped inside, hung up his cane and dropped his backpack on the floor.

"Hi," Lydia said as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. House reached down and gave her a long, deep, lingering kiss.

"Hi," he said as he gathered her into his arms and held her tightly. It was good to be away from the hospital and at his apartment. He pulled back and looked at Lydia as he stroked her cheek. It was even better to be home.


	8. Chapter 8

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Eight-"Taking a Seat"

By: Purpleu

House leaned forward to give Lydia another kiss as he gently held her face in his hands. He could see from how puffy her eyes were that she had been crying quite a bit; that and the pile of used tissues on the coffee table were a dead giveaway. He wanted to just stand there and hold and kiss her for longer, but his leg was giving him an inordinate amount of pain. He either had to walk around or sit down.

"So, where's the patient?" House asked. Lydia was confused for a moment, but then realized he was talking about the rocking chair.

"Over there," she said motioning over her left shoulder. "I think it may be hopeless." House walked to where the broken pieces of what once was a beautiful rocker lay. It appeared to be made of walnut, with carvings on the headrest of edelweiss with small fleur de lis at each end of the piece. The spindles that it was once attached to were still connected to the back of the seat which had a small split at its front. The left arm had become unattached from its side support; the right arm had managed to hang on. Both rocker bottoms had been broken off. House walked over to the pile of remnants and knelt down to get a better look. The splintered pieces did look hopeless; he became aware of Lydia's presence to his right. She had sat down on the floor, a box of tissues in front of her. House looked away to his left; he was feeling guilty enough that he had ignored her when she was clearly upset earlier today. Now, he didn't know what to say. To him, it was a piece of furniture that once looked very pretty and it was too bad it got broken; to Lydia it held a much deeper meaning

"It's bad, isn't it?" she asked, her voice quivering. She leaned her head against House's shoulder and stared at the smashed pieces.

"Well, if my name was Gepetto instead of Greg, I might have a better answer for you," House replied. "But as it is, it does look…destroyed." Lydia let out a small sob at his words. He put his arm around her shoulder and sat down next to her. House drew Lydia in to him and kissed the top of her head.

"What did those idiots do?" House asked gently. Lydia sat up and took a tissue to wipe her eyes. She shifted her position so that she faced House.

"It's not even entirely their fault," she said as she sniffled. House shook his head.

"They are responsible for packing the truck, driving it across the country and then unloading it here safely. Oh, and did I mention that the contents should be," House paused and then said with great intensity, "UNDAMAGED? You're willing to make an excuse for these guys, but all you have to show for their efforts is a pile of fire kindling and the need for stock in Kimberly-Clark." Lydia gave House a puzzled look. "They're the company that makes Kleenex." He picked up the box of tissues and showed her their name. "Now, tell me how this is not the grunts' fault." Lydia took a deep breath before she began.

"As the truck was packed in Phoenix, the boxes went in first, then the furniture. I had never specified where things were to be dropped off, because I didn't know what the status of things would be here. So when they called and said they were ready to deliver, I wasn't thinking about how the truck had been set up and I told them to come here first. When they got here, they double parked, opened up the back and I realized that things were backwards. The movers weren't concerned, they said they would just take couple of pieces off the truck and rearrange some other things and it would be fine, no problem."

"That should have been the first warning sign," noted House. "Any time someone whose bicep measurement is larger than their IQ says 'no problem,' precautionary measures should be taken." Lydia chuckled.

"If only I had known," she said as she cleared her throat. "I need something to drink; do you want anything?" She stood up and headed for the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'll take a beer. Bring me in a slice, too. My blood sugar must be nearing zero by now." House reached over and started to examine the pieces of the rocker; the way some of them had splintered, he could actually fit them back together, like a jigsaw puzzle. Maybe, he thought as he was able to do the same with two other pieces, there's hope for this yet.

"Here you go," Lydia said as she handed House a plate. "I got a mini Sicilian pie with meatballs and sausage. I hope that's OK." House smiled.

"Their Sicilian is my favorite," he said as he took the food from her. "And the meat choice is fine."

"Good. Could you put this on the floor for me? I have to go back for the beers."

"Feel like indulging?" House asked as he took her plate.

"After today, you're lucky I'm not invading your scotch over there," Lydia said nodding her head in the direction of the bottle. House made a face as he looked at the bottle of single malt whiskey sitting on his bookshelf.

"I'd be right behind you if I didn't have to get up so damn early. Wilson's picking me up at seven-fifteen."

"That is early for you. From what you've told me, you don't like to show up at work so soon after sunrise," Lydia said returning with the beers. She sat down and crossed her legs in a semi-yoga position.

"I want to be there as Foreman's running the EEG. He's a board certified neurologist, but a second set of eyes can save you time and grief. We've gone through enough with this case in relation to the multiple medical maladies the kid has; any way we can cut down on problems can be of good use to us." Lydia looked at him curiously.

"What did you find out since I left this afternoon?" House shook his head.

"The accountant who works for Hunter got these files…" House stopped and looked at Lydia, her eyes red and the box of tissues at her feet. No he said to himself, albeit reluctantly, this time belonged to her.

"Why don't I tell you about it later? It's too long of a story and I want to hear about what happened with the Mario Brothers." Lydia hesitated as she took a bite of her pizza, but after a moment, she spoke.

"Where did I leave off? Oh, the furniture was in the way of the boxes. So, they started to move some of the pieces of furniture off the truck and put them on the sidewalk and reposition other things within the truck. They had placed the rocker on the edge of the truck loading ramp; I don't know if they were going to put it on the sidewalk, or somewhere else on the truck. As they were moving the love seat out of the way, one of the movers who was walking backwards with the couch, backed into the rocker and knocked it off the back of the truck. It bounced and rolled over when it hit the street and fell into the lane of traffic, right in front of a car. The poor driver couldn't stop fast enough and smacked in to it. She was elderly and I thought she was going to have a heart attack on the spot."

"Usually when a car and a tree meet, the tree wins the confrontation," House said with a disgusted sigh. "In this case, there was too much car and too little tree."

"I can't believe it broke the way it did it." Lydia undid her legs and moved to pick up one of the pieces of wood. "This chair is over seventy years old and has been around the world and back and forth across this country. I know it's been knocked around a bit, but to have it end its journey here? Like this?"

"Yeah, you'll always remember it met its end at my doorstep, great." Lydia looked at House and then at the remnants of the rocker.

"That's not the way I'm going to remember this chair," she said softly. She seemed in a daze and House was about to reach out for her, when she began to speak again. "The moving men were so apologetic; the fellow that knocked it off the truck couldn't stop saying sorry. When Annie explained that it was my grandmother's, even the driver kept saying she was sorry. They gave me all the paperwork I need to file a claim, but to what end? I doubt it can be fixed and I could never replace it." Lydia started to tear up again. "This chair has seen so much joy and sorrow." She looked over at House. "Please help me turn the seat over so I can show you the bottom." House moved forward and grabbed the seat carefully, not sure what Lydia was going to show him. He moved to a sitting position next to Lydia and turned the seat so the bottom faced them; it was then that House saw a series of names carved into the bottom: Constanza-Marie, Marie-Lydia, Lydia-Benjamin, Elise. The history of the chair. Lydia reached her hand out and gently ran it over the names, tracing the letters of each one. She rested her head on House's shoulder and softly began to cry. House took a swig of his beer before he began to speak.

"Constanza was your grandmother and Marie your mother," he said. Lydia nodded.

"The rocker was a gift from my grandfather, Rafe, to my grandmother when they found out she was expecting my mother. He said that all their children would be rocked to sleep in this chair; but he was killed in a factory accident when my mother was two and my grandmother never remarried." House shook his head.

"I see where that strong, independent spirit of yours comes from." Lydia managed a smile. "Hey, you've barely touched your pizza and I'm ready for round two," House said indicating his empty plate; he had managed to scarf down the entire slice in just a few bites as Lydia had been talking. "Let me put this back here," he said picking up the seat and replacing it on the pile, "I'll warm up your slice and get another for me. Then let's sit on the couch; the floor is beginning to get to my leg." House stood up, bent down to pick up the plates and gave Lydia a kiss on the top of her head as he did so.

"I'm sorry; I didn't even think about how it would bother your leg to sit on the floor."

"Normally it wouldn't, but it's killing me at the moment. And I'm glad I'm not the only one around here who's forgetting to think of others before reacting." Lydia stood up and picked up the beer bottles; House's was empty, hers was almost gone. She chugged what was left as House returned to the room.

"Want another?" she asked. House nodded and sat down on the couch. "Oh, you're not still talking about my phone call earlier today, are you?" she called out from the kitchen. "Because I'm not upset about that."

"I think your line back at Mayfield was 'I'm not crying over you.'" Lydia smiled as she joined him and placed the beers down on the coffee table.

"I don't believe you remembered I said that." House picked up his bottle and took a drink. He turned to Lydia and smiled.

"I remember every word you said, everything we talked about; I used to watch for you from the windows upstairs. I can still see you getting out of your car and walking toward the building." House had closed his eyes as the memory of different things came back to him. "I know what your perfume smelled like and the fact that you wore a different one the night of the cocktail reception." He opened his eyes and took her hand.

"The lunatics that ran that asylum thought we were either Amish farmers or in the military. They'd start the call for showers and other morning activities at five-thirty and lights out was nine at night. So to avoid too much late night interaction with the rap master Alvie, I'd face the wall and think over what we talked about, how you looked, your smile." House turned to look at Lydia. "It was all that kept me going through Mayfield. When Annie left, I knew I had to get out of there, whether Nolan was going to give me a letter to recommend I get my medical license back or not." House put his beer on the table and leaned back against the couch. "Even when I came back here, I thought about you every day; something you said, something you did. You got to me. I even told a dying patient that I was confined with during a lockdown that you got to me. I had convinced myself I wanted to be alone, that I was better off that way. Then I met you and you…changed me." Lydia had a twinkle in her eye as she leaned over to pick up her beer.

"I thought people don't change," she said. House gave Lydia's hand a squeeze as he turned to face her.

"By people, I mean humanity as a whole; they don't change. But then again, I would have to say that a good ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine percent of them have never met you; give or take ten million or so. And you are a force to be reckoned with," House said as he brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, "especially when you smile." She broke out in a wide grin at his words. He moved his hand down to her neck and very gently placed it on the back of her neck to bring her head closer to his. He gently kissed her once, twice….but just as he was about to kiss her again, a shot of pain from his leg made him quickly move back and wince as he rubbed his leg.

"Greg, are you OK?" House nodded his head as he stared at the floor, silently cursing the leg.

"Yeah, the damn thing has been killing me all day."

"I know you don't want to hear this," Lydia said as she reached over and placed her hand on top of House's, "But I really do think you over did it last night; and this morning," she said, smiling. "I picked up something at the store, I'm sure it was silly on my part, but it's made with lavender and tea tree oil and is supposedly very good for sore muscles and to calm and relax you." House shook his head.

"The problem is that I don't have a muscle in there to relax," he said. He sighed as he looked at her and saw the disappointment in her eyes. "Thanks for trying."

"I can still massage some into your leg later," she offered. "You never know what effect it may have." House smiled.

"If it involves you putting your hands on my body, I know exactly what effect it will have. I have an idea; stand up for a minute." Lydia complied and House swung his left leg on to the couch and stretched it out. "OK, now move your beer next to mine and then sit down with your back to me." Lydia looked confused, but did as House asked. "Now take that beautiful tush of yours and slide it back until it's resting against my crotch." Lydia turned around and shot House a look. "It's spooning while in a sitting position," he explained. She pondered what he said for a few seconds, and then nodded her head in understanding. She slid back toward House until her body was resting against his. "Perfect; now let me get the bum leg up there." Lydia reached down as House started to move his leg up to the couch; she helped him lift it up and placed it on top of her legs.

"Mm mm….this is a very good idea," Lydia said snuggling back against House.

"I have them all the time; it's just that nobody bothers to listen. Now see, my arm can go here," he said wrapping his left arm around her waist, "my lips have easy access to your neck," he said as he placed several kisses on the nape of her neck, "and I can still reach the food, so I can make sure that you eat." House reached over, picked up Lydia's slice and held it out in front of her. She laughed and tried to take the slice from him.

"I don't need you to feed me. I'm a big girl you know."

"The pampering is all part of the service." Lydia turned to look at him.

"What service?"

"Greg's House of Comforting and Consolation. It's a new venture I'm getting into." Lydia took a bite of the slice House offered and leaned back against him.

"So far, it's a huge success," she said quietly. House saw her staring at what once was the rocker and felt her take several deep breaths. "I thought about you all the time, too. Every day, several times a day. I needed to get through things that were happening," she said keeping her gaze on the rocker, "And thinking of the different things we did, or imagining how you would react when I heard someone say something inane at a store, all helped. Remembering how I felt when you looked at me, made it so much easier to deal with the hurt and pain." House had picked up her slice as she has started to speak, but now replaced it on the plate and rubbed her shoulders and arms gently.

"You said a little while ago that the chair had seen so much joy and sorrow," House said. "The joy is pretty easy to figure out; I assume that some of the sorrow comes from your grandfather's death." Lydia turned her body so that she could place her head on House's collar bone and nestle it in to the crook of his neck.

"That was the start of the sorrow the chair has seen. My mother had miscarried twice before I was born and twice afterward. Each time she made it into the early part of her second trimester, but then she lost them. She was on complete bed rest after the first two miscarriages; the pregnancy where she was carrying me went smoothly, so when she became pregnant after that, everyone thought they had found the formula for success. Sadly, she lost those two babies, too. I'm the only one who survived." All the medical reasons why the losses happened bounced around in House's head, but he restrained himself from blurting them out. It didn't matter what caused the loss, it was the gravity of it that mattered to Lydia.

"Could I have my beer?" Lydia asked as she sat up. House reached over, snagged the bottle and handed it to her with a flourish. He picked up her pizza and held it out in front of her. She looked at it, then at House as she took a drink; she knew it was useless to argue, so she took a bite.

"It doesn't feel very warm," House said. "Do you want me to reheat it or get a new slice?" Lydia shook her head.

"It's fine. Besides, I don't want you to get up from this couch; it feels too wonderful." She took another drink and leaned back against House again.

"I suppose you have a tale relating to the rocker," House said. "Want to tell me about it or skip it for now?" Lydia let out a deep sigh and handed the beer to House to put back on the table. She ran her hands through her hair and paused momentarily to hold her head. "If you don't want to talk about it…"

"Elise had colic and my ex couldn't stand the screaming and crying," Lydia said quickly, interrupting House. "I understand it was horribly difficult to listen to; I listened all day long while he was at work and at night he would disappear for hours, sometimes all night leaving me alone. Each time he left, he'd say 'You wanted them, you take care of them'. I tried everything to ease the colic: Mylicon drops, chamomile tea, swaddling…" House nodded.

"Those are the usual treatments; unfortunately none of them usually work." Lydia gave a rueful laugh.

"Don't I know it. Well, one night, when Elise's crying woke little Ben up, he found me in the rocker, crying from exhaustion; I hadn't slept more than fifteen or twenty minutes at a shot for three days. I was holding Elise on my left shoulder." Lydia gestured as if she was holding a baby. "Little Ben climbed up on to my right knee with two tissues, one for me and one for Elise. He first wiped away my tears and then Elise's and said 'Don't cry little sister; your big brother will make you feel better'. Of course that just made me cry more. Finally, she stopped screaming as much and out of sheer exhaustion, I fell asleep holding her and with Ben still on my knee. Looking back now, I know how dangerous that was but it's not like I chose to do it."

"You basically passed out," House noted. He reached up and rubbed her neck and shoulders; he knew she was tense and needed to relax.

"I woke up maybe ten minutes later and I was aware of someone singing." Lydia half laughed, half cried at the memory. "Here was little Ben singing 'Rock-A-Bye Baby' and patting Elise on the back…and she was asleep! I checked right away to make sure she was OK; then I walked with her into my room and put her in the cradle next to my bed. Ben followed and he wanted to sleep in my room so he could help me take care of Elise. I said OK and the next thing I know, he's trying to drag the rocker into my bedroom." Lydia reached up to brush tears off of her face. "I got more sleep that night than I had in days. There were so many more times Ben helped me when Elise and I were in the rocker; I think the really sad part was my three year old was more of a man than his father was." She hunched forward, put her head in her hands and began to cry in earnest. House put his arms around her; she started rocking back and forth, just shaking her head.

House was doing his best to hide his reaction from Lydia; it wasn't just what her son did at all of three years old, it was the idea that Lydia dealt with it on her own. If her ex didn't want the kids, there were things he could have done to prevent having them. Besides, he was already getting action elsewhere; it's not like he had to keep torturing Lydia with his grimy touch. House thought about how he had judged Jeanne Hunter earlier in the day: 'Well she's the one who choose to marry Malcolm Hunter.' Lydia chose to marry Annie's brother out of loneliness and desperation. Who knows what Mrs. Hunter's reasons may have been?

House realized that Lydia needed tissues and saw the box across the room on the floor. He put his right leg down on the ground and swung his left leg over the top of Lydia's head. Pushing off the couch to stand up, he walked over and retrieved the box of tissues. Lydia looked up at him as he came back over to her.

"Thank you," she said her voice hoarse from crying.

"It's OK; I need them, too," House admitted. "But just one." He pulled out several tissues to hand to Lydia and kept one for himself. House reached over, picked up his beer and Lydia's and offered hers to her as he took a drink. She took it from him and took a long drink, almost emptying the bottle. House moved closer and held on to her tightly. He wanted to say something, but anything he could think of criticizing her ex or praising her son, would probably start her crying again. The past forty-eight hours had been an exercise in letting out years of pent up emotion and House was glad she finally doing it before it made her sick, but she needed a break.

"Hey, my blackberry just told me that Kimberly-Clark's stock just went up again and I haven't had the chance to buy any yet." House let go of her and changed position so they were face to face. "Are you done producing saline solution for now? 'Cause your eyes are almost swollen shut." He reached up and gently touched the area under her eyes. Lydia chuckled and nodded her head.

"I'm better now, thank you."

"I'm going to get another one," he said indicating the beer as he stood up, "You?" Lydia shook her head.

"I don't want to be going into the interviews I have tomorrow with a foggy brain," she said.

"I forgot about them," House admitted. "What time do you have to be at the first one?" He walked in to the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was a small white box with the name of the pizza parlor on it; they had recently begun offering desserts from a well-known bakery a couple of towns away. House grabbed the box as well as a beer for himself.

"Ten-thirty. The first one is at the school I went to yesterday; the second one is at a private school, the Waldorf Academy and that one has me very interested. It has a very generous salary and health insurance plan; the position that is open is for an assistant teacher, but the teacher is going out on maternity leave and isn't returning. If I somehow could pick up a few more credits at the local college, I might be considered for that job permanently."

"You have your associates degree? Not just a certificate?" House asked as he sat down. Lydia nodded in the affirmative as she opened the box.

"My degree is for a teaching assistant with certification in music as a specialty. I also took some special education classes, so I can be placed in an inclusion class." She offered the pastries to House; inside the box there were two mini-cannoli, two mini cream puffs and two mini éclairs.

"Good choices," he observed as he took a cannoli.

"They were out of napoleons or I would have gotten them, too," she said still sniffling. House handed her the box of tissues; he gave up on guessing how many she needed.

"So this job at the private school looks better than the other one? Being private, maybe the silver spooned children will be better behaved."

"Well, the pay and benefits are definitely better," Lydia said, "but most interesting to me, is that their school nurse is retiring next year. I don't know what qualifications are required to hold that job, although I'm sure they come from the state. I don't know if I should stick with the idea of a music teacher or go back to medicine in some way. It's just that I was so close when I had to leave school to care for my parents. I really want to know if I would have made a good doctor, so I could say," Lydia looked upward to the ceiling, "Siehst du, Papa, ich wusste, dass ich es tun kann". House understood exactly what Lydia said: "See, Papa, I knew I could do it."

"Your father doubted that you'd be a good doctor, that you would excel in your chosen profession." Lydia nodded her head and looked at House. He didn't see tears as he had expected, but a fierce, steely look, determined to prove her father wrong. "I've got news for you: your father isn't capable of passing judgment on you anymore. So why are you still trying to prove something to a dead man? Why do you give a crap what he thinks?" House voice rose and became more intense as he spoke to Lydia, but she didn't flinch at his words.

"For the same reason you put your medical mysteries above everything else in your life. You think that each one you solve will bring you a little closer to hearing your father say, 'I'm proud of you' or 'You made the right choice'. But even if he was here, he would never say that, any more than my father would praise me. Their minds were made up, don't try and change them." Lydia let out a little laugh. "Maybe that's where you get the opinion that people don't change." Lydia reached out and took House's hand as he sat staring at the floor; she noticed a few tears rolling down his cheeks. Leaning over him to get to the tissues, she caught his eye; he picked his head up and she brushed away the tears with the tissue. "You are very lucky; you know, without any one's approval how good you are at your chosen field. You said to hell with following in my father's footsteps, I know what I want, I know what I'm good at, and that's what I'm going to do with my life. It's a shame that it forced you into this narrow way of apportioning all the aspects of your life, that you haven't been able to share it with any one. Your talents in medicine are amazing; but you, yourself, are the best gift you have to offer to this world." House grabbed Lydia, held her and began to cry; gently at first, but with greater intensity as the minutes passed. Lydia let it go on for a bit; she knew how cleansing it felt just to let it all out sometimes. She finally turned her head so she could whisper in House's ear.

"I think Kimberly-Clark just hit an all-time high." House couldn't help laughing as Lydia pulled back and looked at him. She too started laughing and ran her hand down House's cheeks, brushing away most of the tears.

"Hey, the stock's going to plummet if you do that," he said.

"It's OK; it will give you the chance to buy low." House shook his head.

"Can't do that. With how many tissues we've used here tonight, it would be considered insider trading," he said. Lydia continued to laugh as she leaned into House to hug him once again, but something caught in her throat and she started to cough. House jumped up and hurried into the kitchen to get her a bottle of water. He cracked the top open and quickly handed it to her. Lydia took more than a few sips before she was able to stop coughing. She was still trying to clear her throat several minutes later. "I guess laughing and crying aren't the best combo," House noted.

"I'm sorry; I don't know what got me. I'm alright now." House took her hand.

"No one, not Wilson, not Stacy has come out and said to me the things you just did about my relationship with my father and why I am so intense about solving medical mysteries. I need the puzzles to keep me from going crazy, any more than I already have in the past; I need them to be medical to show my father….not so much that he was wrong, but that I was right." House stood. "I had no disrespect for my father's profession or anyone who serves in the military, for that matter. I just knew it wasn't for me and I thought it was better to be a good civilian than a lousy soldier."

"A very wise choice if you ask me," Lydia said. As she rose up from the couch to stand next to House, she said, "Now tell me: If I shouldn't care what a dead man thinks, why should you? You don't need to show or prove anything anymore. You never did." House moved forward to Lydia and ran his hands up and down her back.

"How do you know me so well? For whatever time we spent at Mayfield and the past two days here, that is not enough time to know someone the way you know me." Lydia smiled.

"Because so many times when I've watched you or listened to you talk, I feel like I'm looking in a mirror."

"You are about as much like me as Kate Middleton is like Lady Gaga," House said shaking his head vigorously.

"I know what it feels like to be ripped away from people you make friends with, I know what it feels like to move every few years or months and be told this is your new home, this is the new view out your window and nothing ever looked the same. You were always the new kid in school and no matter how nice or cool you were, you got picked on." Lydia placed her hands on House's shoulders. "I know what it feels like to be ridiculed and rejected by your father because you weren't turning out the way he thought you should be. I am more like you than you realize and it's what allows me to see past the attitude and the smart ass comments and be completely in love with you." Lydia leaned forward and kissed House intently, the emotions of the night culminating in that kiss. House responded in kind, knowing full well how lucky he was to have earned the love of such an amazing woman. They remained lip-locked for several minutes until Lydia broke away and looked at her watch.

"It's almost eleven," she said. "If I'm going to massage that oil into your leg before we get some sleep, we'd better call it a night."

"Party pooper," House said as he picked up his beer and began to chug it down. Lydia opened the water bottle House had gotten her, took a drink and set it back down on the coffee table.

"Could you please take the water into the bedroom with you? My throat's still a little scratchy." House made a face.

"What am I your slave? Boy, share a few emotional moments and they think they own you." Lydia gave House a look.

"As a matter of fact, I do own you," she said as she wrapped her arms around him. "And you will never be put up for sale." House hugged her and as he did, he looked over Lydia's shoulder to what once was the rocker that held so much meaning for her. Now, House understood: the broken pieces of the rocker represented all the heartbreaks that Lydia had been through in her life. He didn't know if the rocker could be fixed, but he was going to do everything he could to mend her heart one step at a time.


	9. Chapter 9

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Nine – "Building up the Drama"

By: Purpleu

House took a step back and looked into Lydia's eyes as he ran his hands up and down her arms. He leaned forward to give her a kiss, closing his eyes as he did so; if he had left them open, he would have seen that Lydia put up her hand to stop him.

"If you start kissing me here, we are never going to get in there," she said indicating the bedroom. "I set everything up earlier, so go inside and get semi-naked." House dropped his head back and rolled it to the side in delight.

"Oh, I love it when you talk like that," he said starting to move to the hallway. She was headed to the kitchen with the plates, but stopped to give him a look. "So…commanding, so dominating, so…Germanic," he said his voice dripping with sarcasm. Lydia shook her head.

"Get in there," she said pointing to the bedroom, "And please take this with you." She picked up her water bottle and tossed it to House. He caught it and started to walk down the hall. About halfway to the bedroom, he stopped, turned around and walked back toward the living room.

"Hey, Fraulein," House called out as he entered the room. Lydia poked her head out from the kitchen.

"Ja, Dr. House?"

"Hard to believe, but I'm being serious. I was thinking about the rocker. You're busy with interviews and you want to get your new place set up. You shouldn't try and rush into a decision about what to do with it just yet." Lydia threw her hands up.

"There's nothing to decide; it…I…it can't be fixed." House walked back over to her.

"You mean to tell me after all you two have been through together, you're giving up on it that easily?" She dropped her head down and gave a sideways glance to the chair. "Got an idea: we've killed enough trees here tonight with all the tissues we've used and if you leave it there," he said nodding toward the pile of wood, "we'll leave more squirrels without homes in the succeeding evenings. If you take it to your new place, you'll have the same results. I happen to know Wilson has a spare room he can easily put it in; out of sight, out of mind. After you get settled in, you can make a decision." Lydia looked at House hopefully.

"Are you sure he has room? Would he mind?" she asked. House smirked.

"For you, I know he wouldn't mind; and unless he's holding out on me, he definitely has the room." House took out his cell phone and pressed 'Dancing Queen' on his speed dial. In a few moments he heard Wilson's voice at the other end of the phone.

"So now you've added psychic ability to your list of talents?" Wilson asked as he picked up the call.

"Yeah, I predict in about eight hours or so, you will offer a ride in your car to a tall, dark and extremely cranky person. That would be me, in case you forgot." Wilson laughed.

"House, of all the things you are, forgettable is definitely not one of them. Why are you calling? Because I literally was just about to call you."

"That doesn't give me a case of the warm fuzzies. What's going on?"

"Tell me why you're calling. It's got to be better than what I have." House made a face; he didn't want to talk about the damn rocker. Wilson obviously had some news about the case and that was more important right now; to him, at least.

"The movers dropped Lydia's rocker and it was hit by a car. It was her grandmother's so she's kind of upset. It's pretty banged up and I don't know if it can be fixed. Wanted to put what's left of it somewhere so she doesn't have to look at it for a while. You still have my old bedroom available or have you started renting it out to young, nubile females in the hopes of snagging Mrs. Wilson number four?" Wilson let out an embarrassed sigh.

"The bedroom is still exactly the way it was when you left, preserved as a shrine to your time here," Wilson said. "And I'm not in search of Mrs. Wilson number four; I'm still trying to figure out how to get date number one with Annie."

"Great. We'll transfer possession to you tomorrow morning."

"Sure, not a problem. We however, have a problem and it's a big one. Davidson got the files put back without a hitch; when he was in the office, he checked the company calendar on the computer to see what was upcoming on the schedule and on Friday was written 'House wrecking starts this morning'. We need answers sooner rather than later. I was already planning on looking over the part of the files that I have; it concerns the accident." House thought for a moment.

"They did far more tests than were necessary considering that the kid probably didn't even hit his head," House said. "Take a look at the EEG. I want to pinpoint when he showed signs of autism or if he really even has it. Call Chase; tell him to put down whatever flavor he's working on, whether it's blonde, brunette or redhead and have him read over his set of files. He has birth to the accident?"

"Yeah and you have the report from St. James Hospital."

"OK, he has to look for the appearance of autism, too. Tell him to go right to any EEG's or clinical observations that would point to the problem. I'll see what the other hospital found as opposed to the BS Hunter provided to the court." Lydia had come out to the living room and was standing near House. He pointed at the rocker, then at his phone and gave a thumbs up. She smiled and mouthed the words 'thank you' as she walked back into the kitchen.

"Sounds like a plan. Tell Lydia no problem about putting the rocker here."

"See you dark and dusky," House said.

"Night," Wilson said as he ended the call. House clicked his phone and sat down on the couch staring off into space. Friday morning, two days. Hunter was giving them enough time so that they couldn't say they were rushed, but in reality, it was too short an amount of time to do a proper diagnosis. 'Mild autism' the report said; of course there were different levels within the autism spectrum, but which one was it? Without a definitive diagnosis, Hunter would find a way to tear apart their findings and make them look like idiots, thereby taking some pressure off himself. House looked over his shoulder to where he had dropped his backpack when he came in; he rose from the couch, picked it up and started to walk down the hall to his bedroom. He was going to have to look over the reports on Hunter's kid while Lydia did whatever it was she was going to do to his leg.

"Hon, I'm going to set up the coffee maker for tomorrow at six forty-five; is that good?" asked Lydia. House stopped and slowly turned his head in the direction that Lydia's voice came from.

"What did you say?" he asked as he walked back into the living room. Lydia came out from the kitchen.

"I said 'Hon, I'm going to set up the coffee maker for tomorrow at six forty-five; is that good?'" House smiled slightly as he slowly nodded his head.

"Fine," he said. He wanted to say something else, but decided against it and went on toward the bedroom. Lydia looked after him curiously, unsure of what just happened.

What happened is that she called House, 'Hon'. No one had ever called him by any term of endearment, not even Stacy. He noticed when Stacy brought her husband Mark to the hospital a few years ago that she called him 'Honey', but he was always just 'Greg'. House never had a pet name for her, it wasn't his style. He called her 'Stacy', which in and of itself was a big concession as he called everyone by their last names. House was sure he had picked up the habit from his father, since everyone with military training called each other by their last names; it made for greater clarity, especially in the battlefield.

Lydia called him 'Hon'; he had always thought that he would develop a permanent tic in his left eyebrow and break out in hives if anyone referred to him that way. It seemed too sappy and put upon, like you were trying to prove or quantify the affection you had for the other person. Coming from Lydia though, it seemed natural and real. House turned at the door to his bedroom and looked down the hallway; at some point, House was sure he would find fault with Lydia, she would do something to really annoy him or they would find they had a strong divergence on a philosophical point or something. For now, she was as close to perfection as he could get.

House walked over to what had become 'his' side of the bed and dropped his backpack. Looking at the bed, he saw that the covers had been folded back and a towel placed on the bed, approximately where his right thigh would go. There was another, smaller towel and a bottle that appeared to hold Lydia's miracle 'cures what ails you' oil on his nightstand. He started to read the propaganda on the back of the bottle, when something to his right caught his eye.

Laid out on the end of the bed was a Grateful Dead T-shirt. House saw it had a vintage look to it and when he picked it up, the shirt had a vintage feel as well. He looked at the label and saw it was a bit worn and faded. The designs on the front and back looked authentic; there was the well-known "steal your face" emblem that even non Deadheads would recognize and a reference to the New Year's Eve concert held at the Oakland Auditorium in 1980. Yep, House thought, this is the real deal.

"Do you like it?" Lydia asked, standing at the door of the bedroom.

"This is cool. What did you do, find an old hippie and mug him?" House was holding it up and admiring the artwork.

"No," Lydia said laughing. "The strip mall at the intersection of Route 3 and Hanover Street has several interesting stores. One was 'Mind and Body' which is where I got the massage oil for your leg. Another was called 'Faded Glory' and it had all sorts of vintage clothing; I think they were open only a few days because they were still working on setting up displays. This," said Lydia indicating the shirt, "was just being put on a hanger and hung in the window. I know you told me you love the Rolling Stones, but the shirts they had for them were either too new or the older ones were in bad shape. So, I picked this as a compromise." House shook his head.

"Why? What made you…?" Lydia shrugged.

"For the same reason I picked up the massage oil; I know the case is giving you a rough time and I though a little TLC and a little gift might make you feel better." Lydia sat down on the bed; House joined her and as he did, she held out a glass to him. "I overheard part of your conversation with James and I thought you might need this." House took the glass from her, realizing it contained some of the whiskey that the bottle on his bookshelf held. He took a sip and turned his head away from Lydia. He wasn't used to this sort of thoughtfulness and kindness; when offered to him, he usually pushed the person away for fear of getting close. Not this time…

"Thanks. I may need the rest of the bottle, too." House fidgeted with the glass in his hand nervously. "You don't have to buy me anything to make me feel better," House said quietly. "I've got what I need." He looked into her eyes and couldn't help but smile. House reached for the Dead T-shirt and placed it in his lap.

"Vintage stuff is usually pricey; it's modern day entrepreneurial America disguising itself in the robes of rebellion from the past. How much?" he asked as he held up the shirt.

"It's not polite to ask how much a gift costs," Lydia said disapprovingly.

"Politeness has no place between two people who sleep together." House tossed the shirt onto his shoulder, found a place for the glass on his nightstand and moved to take Lydia into his arms. "Unless it's to say '_Please_… please don't stop!'" Lydia looked down.

"At least I said 'please'" she replied as she looked up at him from under her lashes. House chuckled.

"Yes, you did." Lydia leaned over and gave House a lingering kiss.

"I've…I've got to look over the files," House said apologetically. "We're running out of time."

"I know," Lydia answered giving him a peck on the cheek. "You're free to use your brain on the files; all I need is your leg." She stood up and headed toward the bathroom. "I'll be back in a minute." House looked at the t-shirt and decided to wear it tonight with a pair of boxers; he needed to be covered up so he could get some work done and Lydia would be pleased to see him wearing the shirt. House quickly took off the clothes he had been wearing and changed into the t-shirt and boxers. He looked down at the shirt.

"Cool," he said aloud.

"It looks good on you," Lydia said as she walked back into the bedroom. "Now all you need is a guitar."

"I've got one in the living room, but it's probably barricaded in by a few dozen or so boxes."

"Sorry, I told the movers to put them where I thought they would be the least bother." House shook his head.

"Don't worry about it; I've got too much to look at and I'm too tired to rock out right now. How many boxes are there?"

"Fifteen. Two of the boxes are Annie's. She didn't have any furniture since I sold it all when she went to Mayfield and I closed up her apartment." House gave her a look.

"Wouldn't that be a big 'OOOPS' if she woke up the day after you sold her stuff?" Lydia laughed.

"Yes, yes it would have; but Annie couldn't stay alone right after getting out. It was best that she had company and companionship after leaving Mayfield."

"Yeah, I stayed with Wilson after I left The Dungeon," House said. "That's how I knew he had the extra bedroom. So what did you hold on to that takes up two boxes?"

"Some of her clothing, so she'd have something available to wear right away when she woke up, her music and cello, of course; some jewelry, books and any family items like pictures or things I knew she inherited. Other than that, there wasn't much point in keeping anything. Annie's made a few purchases since leaving Mayfield, but not too much." Lydia had begun getting into pajamas as she talked. She had a camisole top and pj shorts in a turquoise color that just looked beautiful with her coloring. Of course, House didn't pay attention to the color of the item she was wearing or even what the item was; he was too busy enjoying the view of Lydia in various stages of nakedness as she changed. He sat on the bed with his elbow on his knee, his chin cupped in his hand and a wicked smile on his face. Lydia turned to say something to him and she caught sight of the look on his face.

"Gregory…whatever your middle name is…House! Have you even been listening to me?"

"Yeah, you have boxes and they're in my living room. And I don't have a middle name." Lydia looked surprised.

"From what you've mentioned of your parents, I would think that they'd be traditional and give you a middle name."

"I never said my parents didn't give me a middle name; I just said I don't have one. My birth certificate says Gregory John House. I had it legally changed to Gregory House over twenty years ago." Lydia was momentarily stunned.

"John was your father's name, wasn't it?" she asked quietly as she sat down on the bed near House. He nodded his head and interrupted her as he saw her open her mouth again to speak.

"If you want to think I'm terrible or a jerk or disrespectful be my guest," House said abruptly. "I did what I needed to do." Lydia nodded and leaned over to hug him. He returned the gesture, grateful for her not admonishing him for cutting a link to his father. He would never change his name entirely; that would hurt his mother too much. But that small step, it was small at least to House, made all the difference in the world to him. Plus his mother had no idea he did it. Lydia pulled away from him and smiled.

"OK," she said. "Time for R and R." House gave her a quizzical look. "Reading," Lydia said pointing to House's backpack, "And Rubbing." With that she picked up the bottle of massage oil and started to undo the cap. House smiled as he leaned over to get the files out of his pack. He took out the first file and began to look at it.

"Is my leg in a good position?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the first page of information about Tyler Hunter.

"Fine. I'll tell you to move if I need to." House was trying to focus on the report, then realized he wasn't wearing his reading glasses.

"I need my leg for a second," he said and leaned over to fiddle with the pack again until he found his glasses. As he sat up straight, Lydia did a double take.

"I'm learning all sorts of things tonight," she said as she rubbed the oil between her hands. "I didn't know you wore glasses. I never saw you with them at Mayfield."

"That's because I never had to read anything at Mayfield," he replied as he turned the pages he held so as to read a printout from a test. "Large amplitude in the prefrontal leads."

"Greg, this may feel a bit warm when I put it on your leg," Lydia warned.

"OK," House said absentmindedly. A few seconds later he jumped at the warmth of the oil, but he never took his eyes off the report. "'Paroxysms of laughter have no relation to the EEG.' OK, so that rules out the laughter as a gelastic phenomenon."

"Laughter as the symptom of a disease?" Lydia asked. "I think I missed something."

" Yeah, you did. Filling in the blanks: We all agree on the CP, we think there's some form of autism, but there are conflicting reports; if it is autism, we have to nail down which type in the autism spectrum disorders. Tests showed that the kid had traces of Gabapentin in his system, unbeknownst to the mother or his medical records. It was prescribed by the docs over at St. James Hospital."

"Epilepsy?" House nodded. "That's not uncommon in children with autism, correct?" House smiled any time he heard Lydia dive in with evidence of her medical studies.

"Correct, Dr. Strohman. We had to hold off on doing the EEG since the kid was already having a human earthquake; somewhere along the line, he stopped receiving his medicine. We had to dose him up and watch as he came off it. Thirteen stayed in the room with the mother tonight in case anything went FUBAR." Lydia nodded her head. House picked his head up from the report and looked at her over the rim of his glasses.

"You know what FUBAR means?"

"F'd Up Beyond All Recognition," she said blithely. Lydia shot him a look. "Give me credit for some life experience." House grinned. They were both quiet for a few minutes as House flipped back and forth between the pages in the report he held.

"What exactly leads you to believe it may not be autism?" Lydia finally asked.

"Clinical observations. He makes more eye contact than would normally be expected, he tries to bear hug everyone but his father; he head butts him in the groin." Lydia bent over House's leg, trying hard to suppress her laughter so House could keep on talking, but it was no use. Even House started chuckling at the memory of seeing Hunter react in pain.

"I'm sorry," Lydia said. "I can just imagine what that looked like. No wonder you relate to the boy so much." House looked at her quizzically.

"What makes you say I relate to the kid? I don't go running around flapping my arms while letting out peals of psychotic laughter."

"You seem to care about the boy and the way his father acts toward him as much as you do about the case. I know when we've talked about past cases you've had, you always said you didn't care about the patient's story unless it related to the case; the case was all that mattered. Things appear to be different this time." House took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"I was thinking about this earlier today. There are a lot of similarities between my father and Malcolm Hunter, too many to go into right now," he said as he fingered the edge of the report. "Whatever references I can draw between the two have to stay out the diagnosis; hopefully Wilson and my team will make sure I don't let my mind wander."

"And me," Lydia said in a small voice. House shook his head as he looked over a printout of another part of the EEG.

"Your sympathy toward the kid is very apparent, probably because you have a kid his age. But if I get really out of line, you can help give me a beat down." Lydia took a deep breath.

"I would never do that." House smirked.

"Everyone needs to let out some steam once in a while. It's one of the reasons I like boxing." Lydia had poured more of the massage oil into her hands.

"My ex was into boxing," she said as she leaned over and began to work on House's upper thigh. House raised his eyebrows.

"The first redeeming quality I've heard about the shmuck. I take it you're not a fan."

"It's fine as long the hitting stays in the ring."

"Damn it!" House exclaimed as he pounded his left fist into the mattress. "I thought I had something, but the test result doesn't support it. Unless…" He rolled to his right and reached down into his back pack rummaging for one of the additional reports. He realized that Lydia had stopped rubbing his leg.

"You can go back to working your magic in a minute; by the way," House said a little more gently than his tone had been a minute earlier. "The local gypsies that sold you that stuff were right; my leg is feeling better. Of course, most of the healing power lies in your beautiful ha…" House stopped what he was saying as he turned his head to look at Lydia; she was sitting with her hands clasped together, her arms drawn in with her elbows at her side. Lydia had pulled her knees up and her feet were resting on the edge of the bed frame. She was staring off, an empty expression on her face, but a very obvious look in her eyes: fear. House was unsure how to react; he quickly tried to recall the past few minutes of conversation. They talked about his father and how he and Hunter were alike, how House didn't want to use clouded judgment with the case, but that his team would help with that; House mentioned that he liked boxing, Lydia said her ex did too. He noticed that she didn't seem to be a fan of the sport and she said it was fine as long…

A wave of dawning recognition flooded over House along with a sickening feeling.

"Lydia, look at me." She didn't move. It was almost like she was in an upright fetal position. "Lydia," he said gently as he reached up and barely touched her cheek; he put just enough pressure on it to turn her head to him. She still wouldn't look at him, but House went ahead and asked what he needed to know.

"Did your ex ever hit you? You or your kids?"

House saw her lips were moving, but no words or sounds were coming out.

"Did he hit you?"

"No," she said in a whisper. "Almost. I was afraid…"

"Almost only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades and nuclear weapons," House said. Lydia hesitated, but she finally picked her head up and looked at House.

ouse

"He would throw things at me and kick a chair I was sitting in so hard that he almost knocked it over." She brushed away tears with her hand. "I'd be sitting at the table and we'd be eating or I was reading the newspaper and something would just….set him off and he'd start pounding the table right next to me, screaming that he hated me." House had pulled out several tissues and handed them to Lydia. "The final straw happened out in Phoenix; he pushed me up against a wall as I was holding Elise and he punched the wall inches away from me, put a hole in it and said 'Next time that will be your head'. Annie rushed at him to get him away from me." House saw that Lydia's hands started shaking. "He backhanded her on the side of her face where her jaw had been broken and she just dropped to the ground. My son rushed over and started pulling at his father's pants leg and yelling 'Daddy, please don't hurt us.' My ex was about to take a swing at Ben, but Annie had gotten on her feet and she grabbed her brother's arm. Neither one of them said anything; he just pulled his arm back and walked away." Lydia started coughing and House handed her the water bottle he had carried in for her earlier. "Thank you," she said after taking a few sips.

"So that's when you decided to leave and come back here?" House asked. Lydia nodded.

"I handed Elise to Annie, made sure little Ben was OK and told him to stay near his sister. I went into the spare bedroom where Annie was staying, I got my husband's suitcase out of the closet, walked into our bedroom where he was standing, handed it to him and said 'Get out now. I'm seeing my lawyer in the morning'." Lydia shook her head. "He just very calmly took the suitcase from me, packed his clothes and other things he needed and left without a word." House wanted to ask so many things, but he knew he had to take things slowly.

"Come on; move up here next to me so we both can be more comfortable." House slid himself back to the head of the bed and moved the report he had been looking at and his reading glasses.

"Greg, you have to read those things over, you can't waste your time."

"I am not wasting my time," said House letting out a tired sigh. "And if you think I can concentrate right now, you're crazy. I'll do much better in the thinking department with you next to me." Lydia reluctantly moved next to him, but stayed curled up in a tight ball as she sat next to House. He moved closer to her and very slowly brought his arm around her. She didn't flinch or move away, but she didn't lean into him as she usually did.

"Hey," House said. Lydia reluctantly made eye contact with him. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on? When we were talking yesterday, you said that the two of you sat down and had a calm conversation about ending things. Even when I was at Mayfield, you never gave a hint that this was going on." House looked away from Lydia; he felt insecurity building inside of him. "I guess even a nut job in a psych ward looked better than what you had." Lydia was shocked.

"Are you saying you doubt that I love you?"

"Oh, right, you bought me this nifty little t-shirt; what better proof do I need?" House said sarcastically and took his arm out from around her. "I guess you figured you were safe with me…how much of a punch can a gimp throw?"

"Stop it! If you want to fight, fight fair. Don't throw out nasty comments to try and push me away. If you're upset or mad at me, fine; tell me that." House leaned over and picked up the whiskey from his nightstand and took a drink. He held up the glass and slowly swirled the contents around.

"Damn, you are feisty," he finally said.

"Yes, I am," Lydia replied, taking the glass from his hand and taking a drink.

"I thought you wanted to keep your head clear for tomorrow." Lydia handed him back the glass.

"I'll be fine," she said firmly. House looked at her.

"How come you can be this feisty with me, but you couldn't leave your ex any sooner?"

"When it comes to emotions, sometimes smarts flies right out the window."

"So you did love him?" House asked quietly.

"No, it wasn't love; it was desperation, a need to know that someone out there understands the way you feel. I thought he did; it was his sister, after all. But, I ignored all the things that Annie told me in the past and like a fool I tried to find solace with him."

"He had always been a jerk, then." House took a drink of the whiskey and offered it to Lydia.

"No, thank you," she said holding her hand up. Reaching to her forehead, she brushed away some hair before beginning to speak. "Annie had told me that the family was estranged from Ben, that he had left home at seventeen. She said he had a very bad temper and while he had never hit anyone, there were slammed doors, things thrown, yelling, cursing, all it seemed for no reason. They wanted him to go see a doctor about his anger, but her refused saying it was all of them who had a problem not him."

"Does Annie have any other siblings?"

"No. Annie had an aunt who had never married who lived with them and an uncle who was widowed at a relatively young age with no children. Ben was mad at all of them. He did maintain some sort of contact with the uncle as they had been close when he was younger. Ben showed up at the funerals when his parents and the aunt and uncle passed away. That's when I first met him was at one of the wakes. He was nothing like what Annie had described to me; he was charming, talkative, intelligent, thoughtful and kind even. And he was that way to everyone, not just me. When I questioned Annie about it, she said 'You don't know him like we do.'"

"He's a sociopath, a sociopath with a temper," commented House.

"That's what I have come to realize. He was still very pleasant when he first started to come to Mayfield to visit Annie and things just developed and he was company and while it completely lacked any passion, it felt good. So I said yes when he asked me to marry him, but then after about a year, things started to change." Lydia took a drink of water, emptying the bottle. "We had been drifting apart a bit and I thought that was because he was gone with work more and more. Then he stopped coming to see Annie and I was feeling very alone again. That's when I had my son and although things got worse after little Ben was born, I didn't want him to be an only child. But after Elise, I went on birth control pills and just…I know this sounds terrible, but things got to the point when my ex came near me, I told him to go to hell. It was never gentle, it always hurt and I couldn't take it anymore." House reached over and wrapped Lydia up in his arms in a tight hug. He felt her shaking and pulled back to see tears streaming down her face.

"No wonder you squealed so much last night," he said with a smile.

"I was just so delighted to find out there was more than one way to approach things," she said, a smile mixing with her tears. House kissed her, then handed her a tissue. As she wiped her face, House had to ask another question.

"Are your kids with him now?"

"No. Annie has a…third cousin once removed or something like that. Annie's great-grandmother and Nancy's great-grandmother were sisters. Annie and she are around the same age and grew up together. Nancy moved out to Arizona years ago, so at least she knew someone there we could seek some comfort with. She has three children around Ben's and Elise's ages. They're with her right now. I would never leave them with him." House looked at her curiously.

"So what's the arrangement going to be with custody? If you're afraid to leave them with him…" Lydia waved her hands dismissively.

"It is so messed up; my lawyer and I are trying to figure out the best way to handle things." Lydia started to cough and picked up the water bottle for a drink, not remembering that she had finished it before.

"I'm going to get some more water; do you want a refill?" she asked pointing to House's empty glass.

"I'll take a walk with you. I want to test out my leg." House stood and took a few steps.

"How does it feel?" He took a few more steps and turned to look at Lydia.

"Really good. There's hardly any pain. It wasn't hurting when I was lying down, but I assumed that gravity taking over was going to have a negative effect. Quite to the contrary."

"Good," Lydia said as she met him at the door.

"By the way, thank you." House said. "For the shirt, the massage and for taking it easy on me during our first fight. I gotta tell you, though; you are unbelievably sexy when you are feisty." He pulled Lydia into his arms and gave her a kiss.

"Hmm, you should see me when I'm actually mad," she said playfully and moved toward the living room. House watched Lydia as she walked away.

"I think that may be too much even for me," he said under his breath as he followed Lydia down the hall.

"Could you grab a bottle of water for me?" Lydia called to House as she stood by the pile of boxes. "I started to look through here earlier for some sheet music I want to take with me to the interview and I never did take it out."

"Sure," House said. "What are you planning on playing?"

"Well for an up tempo song, I was thinking of 'Jumpin' Jack Flash' and for a more mellow tune I was considering 'As Tears Go By'." House smiled.

"That's how to ace an interview, alright." He had gotten Lydia's water and was pouring himself another drink. He knew he should look at the files, but after what he found out about Lydia, he didn't even feel like dealing with the case. What he had looked at revealed nothing, just what they had already suspected. He could always read more in Wilson's car.

"Oh, this is going to be the first thing I watch with the kids when they get here," Lydia said. She turned and showed House a copy of the movie "Pinocchio". "I had put it in with my music since I knew I would have that out first for the interviews. This is their favorite movie."

"Even your son's?" asked House. "His mojo factor is going down with me if that's his favorite movie."

"He likes it because of the way Elise and I start dancing around with music. It cracks him up." Lydia held her arms straight out and started to wave them the way a marionette would; she had a smile on her face as she sang, "I've Got No Strings". "Oh, I think between the beers and the sip of whiskey and the fact that I'm tired, I've lost it," she said as she started giggling. House had been looking at medical books on his shelves in the hopes that something would jump out at him, but nothing did. His ear picked up on Lydia's giggling and he moved his head to look at her. She started laughing when she saw the look on House's face. But House wasn't smiling; he was absorbing what he saw happening in front of him.

"My patient is Pinocchio," he said after a few seconds. Lydia stopped dancing and laughing and looked at him incredulously.

"Your patient is a wooden marionette that wants to be a real boy? That…"

"No!" Interrupted House. "He's a happy puppet." Lydia shook her head, not understanding.

"He's a what?"

"He has Happy Puppet Syndrome," House said urgently. "In these days of political correctness, it's called Angelman's Syndrome after the guy who discovered it."

"And it's a form of autism?" Lydia asked. House nodded his head.

"Yep. And I've got the test results to prove it."

unter kept on his son.H


	10. Chapter 10

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Ten -"Reading over the Playbill"

By: Purpleu

House put down his glass of whiskey on the coffee table as he passed by on his way down the hall. Lydia stood in stunned silence for a moment, then quickly followed him. When she reached the bedroom door, House had already put on his glasses and was searching through the pages of the report he had been reading.

"Where the hell did I see that?" he said as he leafed through the file.

"Didn't you look at this one, too?" Lydia asked as she handed him another packet of papers. House glanced at the paperwork.

"No, I didn't get the chance to look at that one. Here," House said folding back some pages to reveal an EEG printout. "Spikes and sharp waves in the occipital leads, probably when the kid closed or blinked his eyes." Lydia sat down beside House on the bed. "Symmetrical high voltage rhythm. All of these EEG's are showing the higher levels of spiking you'd expect with Angelman, but they're to the low end of abnormal." House rolled the report up and sat hunched over, contemplating what the results meant.

"What are you thinking?" asked Lydia after a few minutes.

"With Angelman Syndrome, the majority of patients have severe mental disabilities; but they would also have much higher amplitudes showing on the EEG." Lydia assumed the same hunched over position that House was in; she interlaced her fingers and rested her chin on her hands with her elbows on her knees.

"You said that the boy obviously dislikes his father, as evidenced by his inappropriate actions toward him."

"I never said that the kid head butting his father in the groin was inappropriate; we're talking about Malcolm Hunter." Lydia chuckled.

"You'll get no argument from me," she said. "And everyone else in the room, he acted positively with." House nodded. Lydia sat up straight. "He's making a conscious choice. And if he's capable of making a choice…."

"Then there's a certain level of cognitive ability present," House said finishing Lydia's sentence. "He understands, to certain extent, what's happening."

"Sometimes, with children who have autism, their ability to understand what is said to them is far greater than their ability to respond. It's true of people who have received neurological damage from a head injury or other brain disorders," Lydia said, looking at House. He looked down at the floor and then over at her. "He also has whatever disabilities the cerebral palsy has given him. That he has been denied proper therapy-physical, occupational and speech-for years, has probably set him back tremendously."

"Yes, Dr. House knows all of that, Dr. Strohman," he said mockingly. "Dr. House finished medical school." House saw from Lydia's reaction that he hit a nerve with what he said. Damn, he said to himself, I should have known better than to bust her chops on that subject; the circumstances weren't her fault. "How many credits did you have left? Fifteen? Eighteen?"

"Ten. Cellular Biology and Molecular Biology which were three credits each and Genetics which was a four credit course. I had done an internship at the Wilmer Eye Institute at Hopkins and assisted in research for a paper published through Georgetown on infectious diseases. I volunteered at the Greater Baltimore Women's Health Center among other places; I needed forty more clinical hours and I would have finished my pre-med work with a degree in Biology. If I kept up the same level of work I had been doing the previous three and a half years, I would have graduated with a four-point-0, Phi Beta Kappa," Lydia said wistfully. House sat stunned. He knew she was incredibly bright; it was one of the things that continually attracted him to her. But he had to keep asking himself how she could have allowed her ex to treat her the way he did. He hung his head down; as much as he would want to turn the conversation onto Lydia's past marital woes to get some answers, now wasn't the time.

"What was your MCAT score?" House asked referring to the medical school admission test.

"Forty-five." House smiled.

"You got a perfect score," he noted.

"I'm sure you did, too," Lydia said.

"Yeah, but I didn't graduate with a four-point-0." Lydia shrugged and shook her head.

"Neither did I," she said sadly.

"Maybe someday you can grab some night courses, finish up your bachelor's degree; the clinic at the hospital has taken in volunteers from Princeton U's Pre-Med program. You could look into that," House offered. Lydia laughed.

"I'll put it on my list of things to do after taking my kids to school, to soccer and lacrosse practice, piano lessons, doing homework with them, cooking, cleaning, hopefully holding down a decent job, making up for lost time with my best friend and maintaining a solid, loving relationship with the man I love." House put down the report, removed his glasses and took Lydia's hand.

"You're not alone anymore," he said. "You've got Annie; hell, Wilson would help out just to breathe the same air as her. You've got me. I'm not going to pretend I'm any good with kids; the thought of meeting yours terrifies me. I'm not even so much afraid of me not liking them," said House as he looked at Lydia. "If they're anything like you, I'll be OK. What I'm really afraid of is that they won't like me, that I'll somehow hurt or alienate them, and this will all fall apart," he said with a concerned look.

"Greg, you are an overgrown kid yourself. That's what gets you into trouble a lot of the time," Lydia said as she reached up and stroked the back of his head. "Talk about sports and monster trucks with Ben; believe it or not even Elise likes some of the trucks especially that Undertaker…"

"Gravedigger," House corrected her.

"That's it. Her room is lavender and has all these very girly decorations…and a poster of that truck hanging up on the wall." House chuckled. "Now, that's not to say she doesn't like to have a tea party with her dolls…"

"Can it be a Boston Tea Party?"

"A what?"

"A Boston Tea party," House repeated. "You know, where Barbie and Ken have tiny muskets and Betsy Wetsy is dealing with the saltpeter?" Lydia shook her head and rested her forehead in her hands. "Aren't the Cabbage Patch Dolls at home rolling bandages?"

"No, they are not," Lydia said firmly as she started to laugh. "Look, they both love the piano and music in general, they are bright and despite everything that's gone on with their father, they are happy kids. Just relax and be yourself. They are quite enamored of the fact that you're a doctor; Ben asked me if you've ever been up to your elbows in anyone's guts. I told him you'd have to answer that for him." House had an evil twinkle in his eyes as he chuckled.

"I like your son more and more. Glad you told me about his question; that way I'll have time to give him a proper answer." Lydia gave House a look.

"I think you'd better run that answer past me first," she said trying hard not to give House the satisfaction of making her laugh.

"Spoilsport."

"Enough! My kids won't even be here for another week and a half. We need to get back to your case. Are the test results and information that you have here," Lydia said indicating the report, "conclusive to a diagnosis of Angelman Syndrome? Or is there a loophole that Hunter can plow into?" House shook his head.

"It's not one hundred percent conclusive; genetic testing is needed to confirm the diagnosis and that's going to take three to four weeks. Clinical observations can help push the diagnosis in the right direction; the problem with them is they're not quantitative and too open to interpretation." House stood up. "Even if we prove that the kid has Angelman's, show that it wasn't caused by the accident, prove that the kid has had CP all along, Hunter neither loses nor gains anything in his efforts to try and get to me. I haven't figured his angle on this yet." Starting toward the bedroom door, House turned to Lydia. "I'm going to go grab the whiskey. I need something to help me think."

"I'll go with you; I want to get my water," Lydia said. She followed House down the hall to the living room. Looking around, she saw that the bottle was on the bookshelves, next to the whiskey. As Lydia glanced into the kitchen, she saw the time on the microwave was twelve-thirty. They both needed some rest, but she knew when House was wrapped up in a case, he was hard to reason with. She was going to be tired for her two interviews, but she wasn't about to abandon him.

"I heard you and James saying something about Friday. What happens then?"

"'House wrecking starts this morning' is what Hunter put on the firm's calendar for Friday. Davidson told us earlier that Hunter was giving us until Friday, but not in such graphic terms," House said grimly. Lydia was dumbfounded.

"Greg, please tell me the truth; what did you do to piss this guy off so much? You told me how you two had argued through letters you sent to a magazine or journal, but…"

"Why does everyone assume I did something to piss him off? Thirteen asked me the same thing earlier," House said as he moved away from the bookcase. "I exist. That is the sum and total of what Hunter has against me. Every time someone wanted to file a lawsuit against me with Hunter as their lawyer, either the hospital settled or Cuddy or some other rep from the hospital talked the patient out of it. I'm the one that got away." House let out a deep sigh. "I've never heard of him losing a case. He's legendary within the legal profession." Lydia walked over to where House stood at the end of the coffee table and took his hand.

"And you're legendary in the medical profession. Which is why going after you and succeeding would be a real feather in his cap." Lydia sighed. "I guess I answered my own question." House let go of Lydia's hand and started to pace the room, holding his leg as he did. "He's got to have a weak spot; no one is perfect all the time," Lydia said. He stopped walking to turn and face Lydia.

"He gave two different reasons why he was bringing his son in; either he slipped or he's got something devious he plans on pulling out of his butt."

"What do you mean?"

"When Davidson spoke to Wilson and Foreman this morning, he said it was a genetic disorder from birth. When we get to the kid's hospital room, all Hunter could do was talk about the fact that the accident caused any of the problems the kid has. If anyone even tried to discuss the kid's medical history, he cut them off at the knees; which with Taub wasn't such a hard thing to do." Lydia looked thoughtful as she sat down on the couch.

"Hunter didn't give you two different reasons why his son was being brought in," she said. "Davidson gave James and Dr. Foreman the reason why _Mrs._ Hunter wanted her son to be seen. She truly wants help for her son. That's an entirely different reason than why _Mr._ Hunter brought him in." House sat down next to Lydia; he was clearly agitated, tapping his fingers rapidly on the table.

"I know why Hunter brought him in; I'm just trying to figure out how he plans on nailing me."

"Rather than using your time on a defense, plan your offense against him," Lydia suggested. "Organize the information on how he withheld therapies when his son was younger, detail the medical records he falsely presented to the court. Maybe go to your legal team at the hospital…." House interrupted her.

"Those ideas would all be hunky dory and spiffy except for one thing: we know all the information from a file that was illegally taken from Hunter's office." Lydia sat back on the couch and put her hands up to rub her face.

"I forgot; Davidson may work for him, but has no right to remove anything from Hunter's office without permission." House, who had put his drink on the table and slumped back into a reclining position, suddenly bolted upright.

"Davidson has no right, but Mommykins does," said House. "When I checked him out on line, I saw that his practice was set up as a corporation. You need three people to set up a corporation; other than Hunter, and his father-in-law, guess who else is a big, bad corporate giant?"

"Mrs. Hunter," Lydia said with a smile.

"Correct-a-mundo as the Fonz used to say. Davidson can go back in and get the file under her direction or better yet, she can go get it herself; it concerns her son, she has every right to have it in her possession. Wilson or Forman can talk to our legal department, reassure them that I'm not costing them big bucks for once, and see how they want to handle things. The darling bloodsuckers just can't drag their feet; this all has to come down on or before Friday morning, while we still have him on our home turf." House thought for a moment. "We also need Foreman to successfully twist the arm of one doctor from St. James and he in turn, two others; they have to take back that preposterous piece of crap they squeezed out, otherwise known as the report they came up with for Hunter to present to the court."

"What about going to child services and the DA?" Lydia asked as she brought her legs up underneath her.

"Again, I'll defer to legal as long as they don't um and er themselves to death or take out their hankies and start mopping their collective brows." House picked up his drink, slid down to where Lydia was sitting, put his arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss. "Here's to us," he said after leaning over to pick up Lydia's water and handing it to her. "The team of Dr. House and Dr. Strohman: long may they reign in the worlds of medicine and love." They clinked their respective beverage containers together, although Lydia somewhat reluctantly. She averted her eyes from House as she sipped her water. He noticed her hesitance at his toast and the faraway look in her eyes now.

"Hey, Fraulein," he said gently as placed two fingers under her chin and turned her face to his. "Are you OK?"

"I…I'm fine," she said taking a deep breath. "I guess I'm just tired." She hesitated for a moment, then looked at House. "Greg, I'm never going to be a doctor; that chance has passed for me. I have a very hard time accepting that sometimes. I get so mad that I didn't get someone to stay with my parents for one or two days a week, taken one course at time, put in two hours a week into my clinical time, something, anything that could have brought me closer to what I had worked so hard to achieve. I would have been the first woman in my family to graduate college." She reached up and wiped away a tear. "I think it's very cute that you keep saying 'Dr. Strohman,' but…"

"Lydia, I was serious about you going back to school," House said as he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "You were obviously fantastic at what you did and you had a passion for it. You still do. You can't let that sit and fester inside of you. I was serious when I said that Wilson and I can help you."

"Were you serious when you said that James would do it just to be near Annie?" House smiled.

"Yeah, Wilson has a bad case of puppy love. Good thing he's paper trained." Lydia giggled as she put her head onto House's shoulder.

"Why do you always make fun of him so? It's not nice."

"Look, if I don't like someone, I either become a total jerk toward them or I do my best to ignore them completely; they're not worth my time. But if I like someone, which is a rare thing, I break chops. Gives me a selection of verbal sparring partners to keep me amused."

"I should feel very honored," said Lydia, "You broke my chops with the first sentence you ever said to me."

"I wasn't breaking chops; you were too heavy on the right foot that day. I can still hear the high 'C' reverberating through my head." Lydia picked her head up and gave House a dirty look. He mimicked the face she made until she laughed, then placed a gentle kiss on her nose and moved down to her lips. After a minute there, he started to venture further.

"Greg, it's getting very late. I don't want to start what we can't finish."

"Oh, I'd have no problem finishing it," he said seductively as he put her hand on his crotch. She squealed and quickly pulled her hand back.

"Gregory House! I thought your leg was hurting you," she exclaimed.

"Lydia…you never told me your middle name…Strohman, it's all your fault. You made it feel better," House said as he ran his fingers through her hair. "So, what is you middle name?"

"Guess." House thought for a moment.

"Marie, after you mother." Lydia nodded. "That wasn't hard to figure out." Moving her head back on to House's shoulder, Lydia let out a sigh.

"Greg, does James know what happened to Annie?" she asked.

"Yeah. He was intrigued when I mentioned you had a single best friend. The pickings have been slim since he tried to get back with the first ex-Mrs. Wilson. After he met Annie this morning, I had to put a bib on him to catch the drool. As we were driving over to check out your new digs, I filled him in. He's duly impressed with both of you." Lydia picked her head up.

"You told him about me, too?"

"What I knew up to that point," House said as he tightened his arm around her. "He was amazed at the devotion you showed, going to see Annie for all those years." Lydia shrugged.

"Annie would do it for me. And I have a feeling you and James would do the same for each other." House squirmed a bit.

"Let's just say that Wilson's been a bit better at that kind of stuff than I have over the years." If Lydia had any reaction, she kept it to herself. "But between the fact that she played with the big boys in Philly, to her surviving the attack and trying to protect you for all those years, I think he kind of fell into the abyss of intense like."

"So, he does want to ask her out." House gave her a look.

"Are you kidding? He's already programmed algorithms into his iPhone to figure out the best way to approach the subject with her."

"Well…what about a double date?" House pulled back a little.

"As long as it's not go-karts," he said very quickly.

"I don't see why it would be go-karts, but we can avoid them if there's an issue," she said cautiously. "Why…"

"I'll explain it another time. So if we shake the Magic Eight Ball hard enough, the answer would be 'It's a possibility'?"

"If he suggests to her that we go on a double date, I know the answer would be yes. It's not that she doesn't trust James; quite the opposite, she's very comfortable with him. It's other people, strangers, that she's still uneasy with. If we're with her, it will give her an extra level of confidence. Just tell him to say that he wants the two of them to go out to dinner with the two of us, and it will be fine."

"Cool, I'll clue him in when I see him later." Lydia groaned and moved to sit up and away from the comfort of House's arms.

"That later is going to come sooner than we think. I have a little more time than you do in the morning, but I think we both need to go get some rest. Why don't you finish that off so I can rinse the glass?" she said indicating his whiskey. House took a gulp and emptied the glass. Lydia took it from him and headed for the kitchen.

"I'm just going to turn off the lights and I'll be right in," she said motioning with her head in the direction of the bedroom. House nodded, stood up and headed to the room. Lydia cleaned the glass, dried her hands and flicked the light switch into the off position. Heading over to the box that held her music, she took out the sheet music that she originally was looking for, when her copy of "Pinocchio" prompted House's epiphany.

House never ceased to amaze her; she knew he was brilliant, but there was something in the way that House thought, something in the way his brain was wired, that made him absolutely fascinating. And undeniably hot; intelligence was very, very sexy, at least to her. She closed up the box, turned off the lamp in the living room and put her music on the desk by the door so she could grab it in the morning. Now for bed, she thought. Lydia picked up her water bottle from the coffee table and stopped for a moment as a thought came into her head. The child should be evaluated as soon as possible, not only because the evaluation would support the case, but knowing how long it can take to set up a program of the therapies needed, the sooner they started on things, the better. Lydia had been staring at the floor as she walked to the bedroom, concentrating more on the case then where she was going.

"Hon," she called out as she reached the doorway, still staring at the ground, "I was thinking: can you arrange for therapists to come in and start the process of evaluating your patient?" she asked as she turned into the room and approached the bed. She was so absorbed in her thoughts, that didn't notice that House wasn't lying on the bed, but when there was no response, she picked her head up.

"Greg?" There was no response. She hadn't noticed if the bathroom door was open or closed as she came down the hall, so she turned to check; as she did, House sprang out from behind the bedroom door and with a couple of quick, belabored steps, grabbed her and pushed her on to the bed.

"Ah, Fraulein; at last you are in my clutches and I'm never letting you go," House said in a German accent. He began kissing her repeatedly on her lips, cheeks, ears, neck…anything that wasn't squirming to avoid the very pleasant assault being unleashed.

"Greg...mm…Greg…we… have… to… go… to…bed…" House was planting every other kiss on her lips so she couldn't protest very well.

"That's exactly where I'm trying to get you," he said continuing with his best impression of Lydia.

"Your leg," she said very quickly in between kisses.

"My leg is doing fine, see?" House took her hand and placed it on his groin as he had done earlier in the evening, then continued kissing her.

"I...don't mean…your …third leg…Greg, stop!" Lydia spoke with such intensity that it startled House and he immediately halted his activity.

"Are you OK?" he asked in his normal voice. His left arm and hand were pinned down on the bed by Lydia's upper body, but with his right hand he gently traced the contours of her face, ears and neck.

"I'm fine," she said. "You wouldn't let me talk."

"That's because I knew you would say something to stop me from my mission."

"Your mission?"

"Yeah," House said moving his head up next to hers. "To make sure you have extremely pleasant dreams," he whispered in her ear. Lydia shivered from the sensation of his breath.

"I've had pleasant dreams since we met at Mayfield," she said. "Thinking about you took away all those nightmares I used to have." House could only imagine what those nightmares entailed. "Greg, believe me, I am not saying no because I want to, but your leg…"

"…is feeling fantastic. I'm sure it's a combo of that stuff that smells like the endorphins from a rabid raccoon and these very talented hands of yours," House said as he kissed the back of her hand. "But whatever it is, my leg feels great." Lydia broke into a huge smile at House's words.

"I am so glad," she said reaching up and running her hand down his neck and back. "All I wanted to do was take some of the pain away." House closed his eyes and Lydia could see that he was getting choked up.

"You've done that," he said in a whisper, "more than you could ever realize." Lydia became teary as House moved in closer and began kissing her over and over again. And as he made his way down her neck, she became aware that the word 'stop' had left her vocabulary….

The blaring of a car horn and the screeching of brakes startled Lydia out of the light sleep she was in. All that flashed through her mind was the sight of her grandmother's rocker hitting the ground and the approaching car slamming into it. She put her hand on her chest and took several deep breaths before she could focus and recognize that she was in House's bedroom. She lay back on the bed and turned to look at House; except he wasn't there. The shower wasn't going, but she could smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen. What time was it? She picked her head up and looked at the clock radio on House's night stand: six fifty-one. Knowing that House kept the clock set ten minutes fast, which he usually ignored in his timing of things, meant that it was six forty-one. How did the coffee start already? Lydia realized House must have gotten up and kicked it off early. She was a little disappointed; as much as the cool sheets felt good on her bare skin, the feel of House's arms around her would be much nicer. Whatever the reason he wasn't there, she was sure he thought it was important.

Lydia became aware of music being softly played; it was coming from the living room. While it sounded familiar, it was definitely a variation on a tune she knew. She listened for a moment and finally recognized the song. Lydia smiled as she sat up and looked around for where House had tossed her pajamas; she was paying attention to other things when they were removed. Giving up, she got out of bed and reached into her overnight bag for a pair of yoga pants and a camisole top and changed into them. Slipping her feet into a pair of flats, she quickly pulled the covers up and made a mental note to ask House where he kept a change of bed linens. Satisfied that the bed looked good, she headed to the living room.

As she got the end of the hallway, Lydia stopped and leaned against the wall, a broad smile on her face. There, sitting at the piano was House, playing what she finally figured out was a song from "Pinocchio," but it was his own beautiful arrangement. She wanted to go right over to him, but she was afraid he'd stop playing and she was enjoying listening to him far too much. She couldn't believe it when he told her that he had very limited lessons as a child and what she was hearing was natural, raw talent. Her desire to go over and kiss him finally outweighed her listening pleasure and she started to walk over to the piano. When she got close, House began to sing.

"When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are, anything your heart desires will come to you." Lydia sat down on the end of the piano bench with her back to the keyboard as House sang the last words of the song directly to her.

"And he sings, too," she said giving him a kiss. She reached over and wrapped her arms around him in a hug; he responded in kind.

"I think it's a bit more like warbling than singing," House said as he gave Lydia a kiss.

"Call it what you want, I liked it. You're up early; that's not like you," she said as she stroked the side of his face. "Showered and dressed. Is everything OK?" House nodded.

"I was just impatient. I slept fine and had some really hot dreams to boot," he said giving Lydia a smile. "But my mind was going overtime; I figured out what the approach should be given any of the various scenarios that can play out, good or bad. And I was listening to you last night, even though it may have seemed otherwise. I know which of the therapists in the hospital would be best to evaluate the kid and write out an IEP. They'll put the mother in touch with the county for Early Intervention services. Hunter has raked in some major bucks over the years, most of it ill-gotten gains. He's probably going to have to spend a chunk of that money in legal fees alone. As a resident of the county, the kid's entitled to the services, rich or poor; let the mother hold on to whatever she can." Lydia tilted her head to the side.

"It's difficult for some to believe, but underneath that hard outer shell, is a great big mush."

"Do me a favor; let's keep that little delusion of yours between us. I don't need to have my reputation ruined any more than it's already being sullied by my falling in love with you." Lydia's mouth dropped open and she put her hands on her hips.

"_I'm_ sullying _your_ reputation?" she questioned. House gave her a look.

"Chill. I'm not talking about _you_; I'm talking about the fact that I'm capable of an emotion like love. Anybody who knows me has only seen it for real once before and I managed to screw that up." House stood up from the piano and walked around the end of the bench until he was standing in front of Lydia. "But I have no intention of letting that happen again." He extended his right hand, palm up to her; she took it and he pulled her up to him.

"Ich liebe dich," Lydia said as she placed her hands on his back and gave House a hug.

"Ich liebe dich, auch," he replied as he copied her gesture. House shook his head. "Yesterday was one hell of a day," he said as he nuzzled her hair with his face.

"Yes it was," Lydia agreed, "and I think we did a very good job of surviving it."

"I told you we make a good team," he said as he started to kiss the back of her neck.

"Mmm…Yes, but you also told me everybody lies," she said as she wriggled to move away from his lips.

"Will you hold still? You're making this harder than it has to be," he said with a grin as he tried to maneuver to gain access to her neck again.

"Greg, James…" Knock, knock. "…is here right now," she said as she moved away from him and headed toward the door of the apartment. Pulling it open to reveal Wilson standing there, she stepped aside and gestured for him to come in with a sweep of her hand.

"Guten Morgen, Herr Doktor," Lydia said with a smile. "Was ist neu?" Wilson stepped into the apartment appearing a little dazed. He looked over at House and then back at Lydia.

"What happened?" He looked back to House. "I mean, what did you do to her that she thinks she's not in New Jersey anymore?"

"He put me on cloud nine," Lydia said before House could answer. "Good morning, James." She gave him a peck on the cheek and closed the apartment door. Wilson shook his head.

"I don't want to know," he said holding up his hand.

"Oh, but you need to; the best way to learn is by example." House had walked over and stood behind Lydia. "Most people think it's best to start with the lips; however, the neck also provides easy access to the desired nether regions," he said as he kissed her neck.

"Greg!" Lydia said freeing herself. "You haven't even gathered up the files and put them in your backpack. Now go take care of that."

"What and deny my best friend a valuable lesson in the art of how to make a woman happy?"

"If I may be so bold as to venture, you never have had too much exhibition time in that branch of the arts," Wilson noted. House made a face.

"True; but this," he said running his fingers down Lydia's cheek, "is going to be my masterpiece." House gave her a kiss, which made her smile; but she didn't allow the gesture to cloud her judgment.

"Gehe!" she commanded pointing down the hallway.

"Daaad, Mom's yelling at me again," House said sounding like a little kid.

"I'm not even sure what she just said, but… listen to your mother!" Wilson said. House padded down the hall like a kid being sent to his room, which essentially he was. Wilson turned to Lydia.

"How….?" he questioned.

"I should ask you," she said. "You've been dealing with him longer than I have."

"And he's never been happier," House called out from the bedroom.

"I know I never have," Lydia replied. "James, can I get you some coffee?"

"No, thanks. I told House when I spoke to him earlier that I wanted to stop at either the bagel place or Dunkin' Donuts on the way in to the hospital."

"Good idea; you both should make sure you eat something today. I know Greg was starving when he got home. Would you mind if I got a cup?" she asked.

"No, of course not," Wilson said as he followed Lydia in the direction of the kitchen. "So, Pinocchio led House to his epiphany." Lydia laughed as she took a mug out of the closet.

"I think it was more my dancing that did it." She put the cup on the counter and began moving her arms and smiling and laughing the way she had last night. Wilson stood in the doorway with his mouth agape.

"I don't….that is exactly the way the kid moves," Wilson exclaimed. "Exactly." Lydia stopped.

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Wow…I still don't understand how he got from that to Angelman's Syndrome, but you imitated the kid perfectly." Lydia shook her head.

"I don't understand how he thinks, either; but it's one of the things I love about him." Wilson smiled.

"I have to thank you….he's still House, there's no doubt about that," he said rolling his eyes, "but I have never seen him like this; it's like the humanity switch has been turned on and…he's happy. As his best friend, and someone who never thought it would happen, I'm overjoyed to see it."

"Me too," Lydia said with a grin.

"Fraulein," House called out.

"Ja?"

"I wrapped the pieces of the rocker up in plastic garbage bags to protect them on their journey in Wilson's car." Lydia walked past Wilson and over to where the rocker fragments had been. Everything was neatly bagged up. "I figured they didn't need to get any more damaged than they already had and with the way Wilson drives…." House said as he emerged from the hallway. Wilson shook his head as he bent down to pick up the largest of the bags.

"Annie told me about the rocker and how upset you were," Wilson said, "I'm sorry."

"I'm so glad she was with me or I would have really lost it. She's wonderful," Lydia said bending down to take up a bag.

"Yes, she is," said Wilson wistfully.

"Here, hand me one of those," House said indicating the remaining bags. Lydia handed one up to him.

"I can handle one more," Wilson said.

"Good, then I've got these two," Lydia replied. She led the way to the front door, opened it and then got the front door to the building. "Which way are you parked?"

"To the left, three cars up," Wilson answered. He hit the clicker to pop the trunk. "I have a blanket in here I can spread out first, so let me do that." House leaned into the trunk to give Wilson a hand and as he did so, he glanced at Lydia as saw her running her hand over the wrapped pieces she held and becoming teary-eyed. He placed the piece he had into the trunk and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked. Lydia nodded.

"I'll be fine," she said as she sniffled. She leaned into Wilson's trunk and placed the bags that were in her arms, into the trunk. Wilson closed it down and they stepped back up onto the sidewalk.

"Well, good luck in your interviews today," Wilson said.

"Thank you. And thank you so much for taking care of my rocker while I figure out what I'm going to do with it. It's very sweet of you." Wilson looked down at the street.

"Could I ask a favor of you?" he asked.

"Certainly."

"Do you think in talking to Annie, that you might be able to work the fact that I'm a sweet guy and a wonderful person into the conversation?" Wilson asked.

"I can't believe you're asking Lydia to lie for you," commented House.

"Greg!" Lydia admonished. She turned to Wilson and put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, James; she already knows." Wilson opened his eyes wide and looked surprised.

"Really? She does? I mean…she thinks…"

"Down, boy," House said rolling his eyes. "Yenta, here has some suggestions; I'll tell you about it on the way to the hospital." Wilson looked at Lydia.

"Thanks." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and hit the clicker to open up the car doors. House opened up the rear passenger door and tossed his backpack inside. Lydia had opened the front door and was waiting for him.

"Have fun rocking 'em out on your interviews," he said to her.

"I think I may have to change that playlist I told you about to something a little more kid friendly; like…something from 'Pinocchio'," she said with a smile. House put his arms around her and gave Lydia a kiss.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too." House tossed his cane into the car and then got in himself. He put the window down and put on the seatbelt as Wilson always insisted. Lydia pushed the door closed, then leaned into the car through the open window.

"Boys?" House and Wilson both turned to look at her, "Illegitimi non carborundum." She blew a kiss to the both of them and started to walk back to House's apartment building.

"Did she just say what I think she did?" asked Wilson as he started the car and maneuvered out of the parking spot. House nodded as he watched her disappear inside his doorway.

"Don't let the bastards get you down."


	11. Chapter 11

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Eleven-"Raising the Curtain"

By: Purpleu

"I was going to hit Dunkin' Donuts and just use the drive-thru," Wilson said as he made a left at the end of House's street. House didn't answer him; his mind had more important things to consider than breakfast. He had left the window down and let the warm breeze rush over him as Wilson drove, hoping it would help him focus. It felt to him that he was more like the leader of a band of mercenaries, rather than the lead doctor of a crack medical team. All of this undercover stuff, make sure to wear gloves, separate the files, read them over covertly at home…it would all be great fun if it concerned someone other than him.

"House?"

But House knew that Malcolm Hunter had him squarely in his sights. Lydia had been right to convert his thinking from what was Hunter going to do to him, over to what could House and his team do to Hunter; but now that the plan of attack had been laid out, at least in his mind, House's thoughts wandered back to being in the center of the bull's eye.

"House, hello? Earth to House."

How was Hunter going to achieve the act of knocking him down? There were no invasive tests to be performed; drawing blood and inserting a urinary catheter to obtain a sample had been done without a hitch, not that there is usually a problem with those two procedures. What would they need to do to the kid that could be presented as medical malpractice? Doctors reach conflicting diagnoses all the time, so that can't be it….

"House!" Wilson yelled. "Answer me or I'm pulling this car over." Startled and confused, House looked over at Wilson.

"What the hell are you yelling about?"

"I've spoken to you four times, this is the first time I've gotten an answer," Wilson said.

"I'm thinking," House responded dismissively as he looked out the passenger side of the car.

"Couldn't you have just said 'OK' when I said I was going to use the drive-thru at Dunkin' Donuts?"

"No." Wilson did a double take.

"Why?"

"'Cause maybe it's not OK," House said leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"Where do you want to get breakfast from?" Wilson asked tersely.

"Dunkin' Donuts is fine." A look of exasperation came over Wilson's face.

"You were in an obvious good mood back at your apartment; what happened in the last five to seven minutes to turn you back into your usual self?" he asked as he steered the car into right lane in anticipation of arriving at the store.

"I'm not at my apartment anymore." Wilson smiled.

"So I guess the solution is to clone Lydia, shrink her down and hang her from your keychain. Her constant presence is the solution to the problem." There was no answer. Wilson didn't know what to think; everything seemed better than wonderful a few minutes ago. Time to be direct, he said to himself.

"House, you're not having any doubts about starting a relationship with Lydia, are you? I know this is something you haven't dealt with in years, so you might be uncomfortable, but…"

"I'm not starting a relationship with Lydia; I'm knee deep in one. I don't think I've ever dealt with anyone like her," House said. He took a deep breath. "She sat, listened and understood what I was taking about in reference to the kid. None of it required her to be a rocket scientist, but she was interested in the case and we weren't trying to compete with each other in figuring things out. Oh, by the way she is a rocket scientist."

"Well, it's clear that she's smart, except for her choices in men." Wilson put on the turn indicator to make the right into the drive-thru lane for Dunkin' Donuts.

"You have no idea how bad her choices are," House said. Wilson shot him a look as he turned the wheel and got in line to order; they were in luck as there was only one other car ahead of them.

"I know you said in reference to her ex, that neither one of them married for love and he had action on the side; of course you were Lydia's paramour."

"Once." House said. "We only made love one time. The rest of it was emotional and intellectual. Talking, playing the piano. I underestimated her back then; whenever we talked about medicine, it was either me talking about past cases or the two of us talking about Annie. I assumed she knew what she did because she was involved in Annie's care. I should've followed my own advice about assuming. Looks like we're up." The person in the car ahead of them was handing money to the employee at the window. "I'll take a plain bagel with a shmeer and a large coffee my usual way. And get a large box of the donut rejects. A sugar rush might help with things." Wilson looked confused.

"Donut rejects? You mean Munchkins."

"Yeah, whatever overly cute name their marketing department came up with; the fact is years ago when donuts were being made, that part would be thrown away. Ergo, rejects." Wilson shook his head as he rolled up to the window. He placed their order and as he was about to ask House what the deal was with Lydia, his cell phone rang.

"It's Foreman. I'll put him on speaker." Wilson pushed the button to answer the call. "Hey, Foreman. I've got House with me; I'm going to put you on speaker." He pushed another button and the speaker function was activated. House and Wilson could hear the sound of beeping horns and car motors in the background.

"I have my damn blinkers on, go around me!" they could hear Foreman yell at some unknown motorist.

"Where the hell are you?" House asked.

"I'm on the exit ramp where route twenty-two meets route three. Some jackass went shooting past me on my right and was in my blind spot when I went to move over so I could be in the exit lane to turn on to route three. We didn't hit, but I caught the edge of my tire on the curb as I tried to avoid him and it blew out. I called road service but I won't be getting to the hospital for at least an hour to an hour and a half."

"What time is your meeting with the guy from St. James?" asked House.

"Eleven-thirty, so there's no issue with me getting to that on time. He seemed reluctant at first, but I talked up the fact that if we had his help, we could prevent Hunter from ever doing any sort of blackmail to anyone else again. He hesitated at the mention of the word 'blackmail,' but then he seemed to warm up to the idea of bringing down Hunter."

"We're going to need the other two docs, too, the other neurologist and the internist. It's got to be the three that Hunter had done the preliminary filings against or it weakens our case," House noted. The girl at the drive-thru window returned with their order; she and Wilson exchanged money and food. House took the coffees from Wilson and placed them in the cup holders; the box of Munchkins he put on the floor between his feet. Wilson put the food bag on the seat next to him and pulled out of the lane.

"We aren't going to have any kind of test results that I can bring with me to try and reassure him and strengthen our argument, are we? Because proof in black in white would be a big help," Foreman said. A loud, sustained beep blared through the speaker of the phone. "Really? Where would you like me to go?"

"I think they're telling you where to go," said House.

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Wilson.

"I don't do windows," House interjected. "Or tires."

"No. I'm just going to wait for road service. I already called the hospital and let Thirteen know I was going to be late."

"Oh, how sweet; old habits die hard," House said sarcastically.

"You didn't answer my question from before," Foreman said, ignoring House's comment. "Are we going to have anything that I can bring with me to persuade Dr. Murphy to join us in the fight?" House let out a sigh.

"Unfortunately, no; all we're going to have is an EEG that is most likely going to mirror the results they got when the wolf showed up at their door. That in and of itself conflicts with the BS they put in the report that we and the courts were given. If we have to play rough, we can always tell him it's all going to come out any way since we're going ahead with this no matter what. They might as well be on the side of the Justice League. I was going to say X-Men, but I use a cane and not a wheelchair," House said.

"So, I take it we're going to use DNA testing to confirm," said Foreman, "But that's going to take weeks."

"Did Michelangelo complain when he was handed a chisel, a hammer and a hunk of marble? No. He worked with the tools he was given and created a statue with an enviable _schlong_. We've got to take a closer look at chromosome fifteen and see what happened. It's most likely a defect coming from the mom, but there's a possibility it could be the bastard's fault and nothing would make me happier."

"I couldn't believe it when you called me and told me it was Angelman's. The prevalence rate is something along the lines of one in twenty-five thousand and most of those patients are considered to be severely mentally impaired," Foreman noted. "What exactly makes you think Tyler is not?"

"The spikes and…" House waited until the driver cursing out Foreman had passed. "…large wave amplitudes are significantly above normal, but below what you expect for a typical autism diagnosis. He also shows signs of cognitive ability by the fact that he can make choices; like head butting his father, but hugs for the rest of us. Even me," House said, silently questioning the kid's judgment on that last part.

"And we're sure about the cerebral palsy?" asked Foreman. "Because if the boy does have it, it would be a first for you; your patients usually only have one thing wrong with them at a time."

"It's not a first," House said sounding annoyed. "The kid's an exception to my rule and that's a strike against him; I don't care how much he hates his father." Wilson smiled as he took a sip of his coffee. The multiple disease diagnosis would be an anomaly in House's case histories. Then again, having to play detective was out of the ordinary, too.

"Foreman, are you going to be able to get the EEG done before this meeting that House wants to have with the boy's mother and Davidson and still meet up with Murphy on time?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah, it'll be tight, but I'm meeting him near the hospital, so it shouldn't be a problem. House what is the purpose of this meeting with you again?"

"I want to make sure that everybody's on the same page, that everyone has their ducks in a row and any other cliché you can think of to say that I want to make sure that no one does or says anything to screw this up. I'm sure Hunter's going to make an appearance at the hospital at some point today and there's no point to leaving anything to chance. There's too much at stake."

"Don't you think I'd move the damn car if I could?" Foreman yelled at yet another unseen harasser. "Damn, people are stupid when it comes to driving!"

"I'll agree with you there," said Wilson as he changed lanes to avoid being cut off by someone pulling out from the curb. "Idiot!"

"Want me to throw a Munchkin at him?" House asked.

"Too late," Wilson answered as he shook his head.

"Hey, I may be in luck," Foreman said. "I'm at the top of the exit ramp and I can see about a quarter mile back on the road; I think I see a tow truck there. If the traffic starts moving, he'll be here soon and I can get going."

"Great. We'll see you at the hospital in a little while," Wilson said.

"OK, bye," Foreman answered.

"Ciao," House said. Wilson pushed the button to end the call.

"Want your bagel?"

"Nah, I'll wait until later," House said. Wilson glanced over at him as he took his blueberry muffin out of the bag and took a bite. House picked up his coffee and took a few sips.

"You know," Wilson said after swallowing his food, "I'm under strict orders to make sure that both of us eat today." House smiled as he returned his cup to its holder.

"Fraulein gave you orders." It was a statement of fact rather than a question. It was now Wilson's turn to smile.

"She's really something, House. There's this vibe that I get from her that she's a combination of a woman in charge who can handle anything and little girl lost." House nodded his head.

"She's the perfect combination of both of those things."

"Nobody's perfect."

"She's the closest thing to it that I've ever had." Wilson took a sip of his coffee before he spoke.

"Aren't you putting a little too much pressure on yourselves?" he asked. "She's going to feel the need to live up to this idealized version of her you've created and if she fails at it, you're going to be doubly disappointed." House looked out the open passenger side window and rested his arm on the edge of the sill.

"Sounds like you're talking from experience," remarked House. "Which wife?"

"I plead the fifth," said Wilson making a face.

"You've only had three. My guess is ex number one. Young love is usually the most naïve and idealistic."

"Can we get off the subject of me and my past failures and get back to you and your attempt at a future with Lydia? You said something before about her being a rocket scientist?"

"As smart as one if not smarter. Remember I told you she was in the pre-med program at Hopkins?"

"Yeah; she had one year to go but her parents were in a car accident and she left to take care of them."

"Not one year, one semester and even then it was only ten credits and forty clinical hours."

"What? That's nothing to finish. Why didn't she just take the semester off, get some help with her folks and go back? God, to be that close…"

"Believe me, she beats herself up that she didn't do something like that. Know what her MCATs were?" Wilson shook his head. "Forty-five." Wilson let out a low whistle.

"Wow, a perfect score; same as what you got." House shook his head, realizing that he had to fill in the blanks for Wilson to truly understand.

"She had a four-point-0, phi beta kappa. She interned with Hopkins at the Wilmer eye institute…they only take one person per year and they're not required to take anyone if they don't meet the qualifications. She did research at Georgetown in the infectious diseases program and her work was used in a published paper. I know which program she was in; I did the same program ten or so years before. Only I didn't have any of my work published." House reached for his coffee. "She didn't tell me this, but I'm sure she was offered the internship at the Mayo Clinic, but had to turn it down because Daddy wouldn't let her out of his sight." They had arrived at the hospital and Wilson put on his left turn indicator to enter the parking lot.

"Do you feel like going inside yet? Because I know if I go in there I am going to be besieged by phone calls and e-mails that I'm going to have to deal with and I am just not in the mood," Wilson said sounding tired.

"Fine; but if you park in your usual spot, you're going to be seen and the jig will be up. Why don't you pull into the overflow lot? It's far enough away from the building that no one will see us. The worst that could happen is security will come by to make sure we're not sitting back there making out or something," House said. Wilson rolled his eyes.

"It wouldn't be the first time someone's made that mistake."

"And it won't be the last. People see the possibility for attraction; your boyish charm, my big cane and they make certain assumptions," House said with an exaggerated smile.

"All you would have to do is pull out a picture of Lydia and they'd know there is no way you would choose me over her."

"I could pull out a picture any woman and they'd know who I'd choose." House looked at Wilson. "Sorry, but you're just cut the wrong way."

"No offense taken, trust me," Wilson replied as he laughed. He had driven past the main hospital building down a long drive to an auxiliary lot that was used mainly when conferences were held at the hospital. Pulling into a spot, he turned off the car and glanced over at House. Wilson saw the concerned look on his friend's face and didn't know how to figure out what was bothering him. He had solved the case, they had a game plan for nailing Hunter and they certainly had gained two allies on the board of directors for the hospital by helping Jeanne Hunter find out what exactly was wrong with her son. Jeffrey Davidson would be glad to do anything that would make Mrs. Hunter happy. So by process of elimination, Wilson took it that House was bothered by something with Lydia. Maybe if he managed to bring her up again, he could find out what was going on inside House's mind.

"Here's your bagel," he said holding it out to House.

"I'm not hungry," House said as he stared out the front window. Wilson sighed.

"Look, I promised Lydia that I would make sure you ate today. She said you were starving when you got home last night." House gave a little laugh.

"She's only saying that because I finished two slices of pizzas before she could even manage one. She's the one who should make sure she eats." He reluctantly took the bagel from Wilson and set it on the dashboard in front of him.

"I can understand her not wanting to eat last night; she was still upset about the rocker." Wilson took a drink of his coffee. "What I don't understand is what's bothering you right now that you don't want to eat. You usually don't let anything stand in between you and food." House didn't answer. "Is it the case? Hunter? Something with Lydia?"

"Everything." House looked over at Wilson. "Think about all the stuff that's happened in the last six or seven weeks since the crane collapse. I crawled down under how many tons of concrete and steel to argue with a bunch of morons that a person's leg is theirs and only they have the right to say if it stays or goes. I take an extended nap and when I wake up, I find I've missed out on three weeks of my life and Cuddy's living in the produce isle, which I still feel partially responsible for." House's voice was rising in volume and intensity. "I've got a bloodsucking bastard on my back who wants to take away everything I am and all I've worked for. And to top it all off, I've got to stand there and watch him treat his son the same way my father treated me: If you're not what I expected you to be, the hell with you." House put his head down and let out a long sigh. "The only positive thing in all of this is Lydia and even she's thrown me for a loop," he said quietly.

"I've sort of picked up on the fact that there's something going on with her. What's the problem, she leaves the toilet set up?" Wilson asked sarcastically. House made a face.

"Other than the fact that she's been able to pull more emotions out of me in forty-eight hours than some people have been able to in twenty years, everything is just marvelous. I don't do emotions; at least not outwardly." House got quiet for a minute. "I've cried more in the past two days than I care to admit. Lydia and I are both getting a lot of things out that we've needed to for years, a good portion of it directed at our fathers. It's just one more of the things that we have in common that seems to make this all work." Wilson gave no reply and House turned to look at him.

"I don't think I've ever seen you cry," Wilson said in amazement. "I mean, I saw you fake it at your dad's funeral so you could get the DNA sample, but never for real." House shrugged.

"As sweet as it may seem that she got me to turn on the waterworks, I still tried to push her away; we had our first fight last night."

"Really? What happened?"

"What didn't happen last night?" answered House. "Allow me to recap the highlights; I'll leave out the parts you're too young to hear." House began telling Wilson the events of the night before; how the rocker broke and its joyful and sad history; his and Lydia's shared resentment of their fathers' lack of respect for their talents and Lydia's gift of the massage oil and t-shirt. Then House got to the part he dreaded telling Wilson for several reasons: Lydia's revelation that she had been abused. He recounted it just as she told him, but hesitated as he got to the final confrontation that led to Lydia throwing her ex out and finally filing for divorce; when he told Wilson how Annie's brother had backhanded her in the face, Wilson lost it.

"That son of a bitch!" he yelled slamming his hand on the steering wheel. "It's his own sister, for God's sake! What the hell is wrong with him?" House looked at Wilson and then the steering wheel.

"I know I'm the last one who should be giving relationship advice, but if you do stuff like that," House said pointing to the steering wheel and Wilson's hand, "in front of Annie, even a box of Godiva would be rendered useless." Wilson nodded his head as he massaged the hand he used to hit the wheel.

"You know I don't usually do things like that; I'm just pissed and feel bad for Annie. What is his problem?"

"I've wondered that, too; at the very least he's a sociopath with a temper. But some of the things Lydia said has made me think there's something more to his story," House said.

"House, don't; don't even think about diagnosing this guy and giving him an excuse for what he did."

"I'm not going to," said House a bit annoyed. "I'm more interested in finding out what the hell made Lydia stay with this jerk for so long. I know he pulled the Prince Charming card and she was grateful and all that, but…she's too smart to have been taken in by this guy the way she was. That's what the fight was about; I said that after this loser, I must look like a bargain from the clearance bin. When I kept going on, she told me to fight fair and if I was mad, just say so, don't keep trying to push her away." Wilson gave House a blank stare.

"That's it. That's what you call a fight."

"It…was a disagreement," House conceded. Wilson shook his head.

"Did you get mad? Did she get mad? Were there hurt feelings on either side? Did your voices rise to a decibel level above the average heavy metal song?" House squirmed in his seat.

"No," he said.

"Take it from an expert," Wilson said laughing. "That wasn't a fight; that wasn't even a disagreement. That was Lydia calling you out on the carpet for being an ass and falling back on your usual defense mechanisms. I've heard you have a fight with your significant other; so did the entire restaurant even though you were standing outside." House put his arm on the door's window ledge and looked out, away from Wilson. He was clearly uncomfortable.

"Stacy was in a once every twenty-eight days hormonal rage," House said.

"And what was your excuse?" asked Wilson. House made a face.

"If I wanted to live in the past, I'd be taking my favorite happy pills and I wouldn't have fallen in love with Lydia. Let's drop the subject."

"Agreed." Wilson took a drink of his coffee. "I still can't believe he hit his own sister…right where her jaw had been broken! She must have been devastated."

"That's not the end of the story. The son begged his father to stop hurting them, and when the father was about to take a swing at the kid, Annie jumped up from the floor and stopped him. She's as feisty as her best friend. Lydia handed her daughter to Annie, handed the ex his suitcase and showed him the door. That's when they came back here." Wilson was rubbing his hands over his forehead.

"House, you said Lydia had some suggestions about how I can approach Annie for a date. Please tell me what I have to do." Wilson looked at House with desperation in his eyes. "I don't know if it's that I've been alone for a while now or if it's something about Annie herself, but I really want to at least… have the pleasure of her company, even if it has to be platonic for a bit. I want to give her the chance to know that there are decent people out there that she can trust."

"Do me a favor," House said. "Don't push her, don't rush things, don't screw this up. Because if something goes wrong between you and Annie, it holds more than a few consequences for Lydia and me."

"And if something were to go wrong between you and Lydia, the same would be true for Annie and me. Lydia doesn't seem to have a problem with it or she wouldn't have offered the advice."

"I don't have a problem with it either," said House as he glanced over at Wilson. "Ask her to have dinner with Lydia and me." Wilson picked up his cup and started to take a drink.

"Wait…a double date?"

"Don't worry; I made Lydia promise no go-karts." It was all Wilson could do not to spew his coffee all over the steering wheel and dashboard. Wilson started coughing and choking as House sat there with a wry smile on his face; suddenly, Wilson's cell phone started to ring. House picked it up and looked at it as Wilson continued to cough.

"It's Chase." He pushed the button to answer the call and put it on speaker. "Hello, city morgue, you stab 'em we slab 'em."

"Morning," Chase said. He paused for a moment. "Is that Wilson I hear coughing?"

"Yeah; we're sitting in a secluded parking lot doing some intimate male bonding and I made him choke."

"Does Lydia know about this?" Thirteen said joining in on the conversation.

"Are you kidding? She encourages it," House said.

"Kinky," commented Taub.

"Enough!" yelled Wilson as he heard them all laughing over the phone. "I'm glad you all had a chuckle at my expense. Can we talk about the patient, please? Is Foreman there yet?"

"I'm right here," he said, a slight hint of laughter still in his voice.

"Have you started the EEG yet?" House asked very quickly becoming serious.

"I was just about to. Taub and Thirteen got the kid to the test lab and Chase talked to the mother."

"After reading over the files that dealt with Tyler from birth to the accident, I had some questions for the mom," Chase said. "It really is a shame; Tyler was responding particularly well to the therapy he was receiving. Mom was an active participant in the therapies, according to the notes the therapists made; Dad was nowhere to be found." Wilson looked at House and saw that he had closed his eyes and tightened his jaw.

"That's not surprising," Wilson said. "How close are you to starting the EEG?"

"Five or ten minutes. The mom's in there with him right now keeping him fairly calm. We're going to twilight him just so he stays that way long enough to do the test, but not enough to change the results," Foreman said.

"Look in the pre-frontal area along with the cerebellum and hippocampus," House instructed. "We're going to want a direct comparison to be drawn between the original report by the Three Stooges at St. James and what we're doing today."

"Got it."

"How soon will it be before you two finish bonding and make it in here?" Thirteen asked. House shot a glance over at Wilson.

"By the time we clean up all this stuff and pull ourselves together?" asked House as he looked around at an imaginary mess. "We'll be in there by the time you're ready to start the test."

"House, do you have any preference on who you want to bring in to do evaluations on the kid for different therapies?" Taub inquired. "The mother was asking me about that earlier."

"Yeah, contact Dr. Lindeman's group," House said as he stretched and did a neck roll to work out the kinks. "He specializes in autism cases. Let him know we suspect Angelman's Syndrome."

"What? Angelman's? Really?" Chase, Taub and Thirteen all began to speak at once.

"Yeah, really. I'll go over the reasons why when we meet with the mother and Davidson at nine." With that House hung up the phone. He turned to look at Wilson. "We'd better get in there." Wilson sat motionless.

"You have put me through enough this morning; I do not want to have to report to Lydia that you didn't eat," he said.

"So don't say anything." Wilson pointed to where House had put the bagel on the dashboard.

"I am not moving this car until you eat something," he said sternly. House sat with his arms folded across his chest. "Pick that up, unwrap it, take a bite and chew and swallow that bite. Please; so I can at least tell her I saw you eat something. I just won't say how much or how little I saw you eat." House made a face as he picked up the bagel and did as Wilson asked.

"I'm only doing this because you're so cute when you pout," House said.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," reprimanded Wilson as he turned on the car. He put it in gear and made his way to his parking spot at the front of the hospital. "What day do you want to try to go out to dinner?" There was no answer. "House, you didn't take that big of a bite; your mouth must be empty by now. C'mon, I want to ask Annie today." House chuckled as he wiped his mouth.

"That's a good question. The next couple of days are out. Friday we may either feel like celebrating or drowning our sorrows."

"What about Saturday?" asked Wilson. "I know that Annie said she and Lydia wanted to start setting up the house on Saturday, but maybe that night." House shook his head.

"On the off chance that one of us will be too tired from carrying heavy, bulky objects, I don't think he would make a very good impression on his girlfriend in waiting." Wilson shot House a look as he pulled into his spot.

"Gee, thanks for being so thoughtful. Why not Monday?" Wilson put up the windows on the car and turned the engine off. House wrapped up the remnants of his bagel and put it into the bag it originally came in.

"You didn't finish your muffin," House said disapprovingly. "I'm going to tell Lydia." Wilson rolled his eyes.

"What about Monday?" he again asked as he opened the door stood up out of the car.

"Monday would be good," House said as he exited the car. He reached in for his cane and the Munchkins and placed the donut treats on top of the car. "Most restaurants close on Mondays, but The Italian Gardens is open; rebels that they are, they close on Tuesdays." He opened the back door to retrieve his backpack.

"That sounds good. I'll ask Annie when I talk to her later." Wilson had gotten his briefcase from the back as well. "I have to thank Lydia for making the suggestion." He looked at House standing on the sidewalk at the front of the car. "I still can't believe she's gotten to you so much that you were finally able to let out some of the pent up crap you've held inside all these years." He looked at the ground as he walked and stepped up onto the sidewalk. "It's something I wasn't able to do." House sat the box of Munchkins on the hood of Wilson's car as he adjusted his backpack.

"Will you stop making it sound like you've been replaced in my life and I've thrown you to curb with the trash? Lydia's my girlfriend; you're my best friend. With the exception of showering together and doing the horizontal hustle, you hold the same rights and privileges as she does. Any other arrangement wouldn't be right." House had been avoiding Wilson's gaze, but he turned now to look at him and saw he was smiling.

"Thanks, House," Wilson said quietly as he took a few steps toward the hospital entrance. "I was beginning to feel a little like a… third wheel in your life or something." House picked up the box of Munchkins and started to make his way along the sidewalk.

"Well, now that we've established that you're still my bitch, can we get inside? I have a patient to take care of," he said as he walked past Wilson, who just stood there shaking his head.

"Anything you say, House." Wilson followed behind and caught up with House at the fountain in the plaza. House glanced at it as he walked by.

"That's one of the other things that defines the kid's particular type of autism: water; or rather an obsession with it," he noted.

"I take it the smiling, the laughing and the flapping of the hands are all symptoms as well," Wilson said.

"Yeah; the thing is, if you were to draw a ven diagram of the symptoms of cerebral palsy and the symptoms of Angelman's, the point where the two intersect would contain an extraordinary amount of symptoms. It's easy to see how a diagnosis for Angelman's would be missed." Wilson reached for the door and held it open for House to walk through. They went over to the desk to sign in.

"Let me drop this in my office," Wilson said indicating his briefcase.

"I'll grab an elevator," House said. He rounded the reception desk and as he crossed the hallway that passed in front of the bank of elevators, he almost collided with a young woman. She was carrying an armful of papers and some dropped to the floor as tried to avoid running into House.

"Oops!" she said as things hit the floor. "I'm sorry, Dr. House." She quickly bent down to gather up the fallen documents.

"That's OK," House said as he bent down to help the woman.

"No. Don't. I've got them," she said scooping up the papers.

"Everything alright?" Wilson asked as he approached.

"Fine, Dr. Wilson." She stood up and House handed her some papers he had retrieved. She became obviously nervous as she made brief eye contact with House, took the papers from his hands and turned to leave.

"Where are you hurrying off to?" House asked.

"I…I have to get these to legal," she said. She took a breath. "Bye Dr. Wilson, Dr. House." With that, she rushed off down the hallway.

"Wilson, who was that lovely young creature?" House said as he watched her walk away. Wilson rolled his eyes as he pushed the call button for the elevator.

"Down, boy; you have a girlfriend, remember?"

"I remember; I'm just curious about the identity of the young lady holding the files of some of my previous cases and why she was taking them to the legal department," said House as he turned to look at Wilson. "And how she knows who I am since I've never met her before."

"That's Cheryl Cooke; she works in medical records for about the past two or three years," Wilson said, taken aback. "You have no cases pending against you that I'm aware of. Are you sure she was holding your files?" The elevators doors opened and House and Wilson stood aside to let the exiting passengers leave the car.

"Unless someone else is using the name 'Gregory House, MD' in the Department of Diagnostics."

"Do you want to go to legal and see what's going on?" Wilson asked as he held the elevator door open. House hesitated.

"No; I want to see what's up with the EEG and meet with the mom and Davidson before Hunter shows his ugly mug around here," said House as he entered the elevator. Wilson pressed the buttons and the doors closed.

"Is it possible Hunter's already started something and we don't know it?"

"I would like to think as co-interim Dean of Medicine, somebody would have clued you in," House said grimly. Damn, he thought; even the slightest hope he held that they were making progress against Hunter was called into question. Something this morning had better go right. Arriving at the floor housing the EEG lab, House and Wilson made their way to the room where the test was being done. They saw that Tyler was on a gurney with leads attached to him at various points; standing next to him was his mother holding a water bottle in his line of sight and tilting it back and forth making the water flow with the movement of the bottle.

"Hey," Foreman said. "We're just about to get started." House glanced at his watch.

"Good timing," House said. "We'll be done in time for the meeting with mom and Davidson."

"Are those Munchkins for us?" Taub asked.

"No, they're for the pigeons up on the roof. I have an agreement with them; I bring them donuts, they don't poop on me," House said as he studied the screen over Foreman's shoulder. "There, large amplitude…"

"But not as large as you would expect, especially in Angelman's," Foreman said quite surprised.

"But it is still autism, correct?" asked Wilson.

"Autism is definately indicated; clinicals and DNA will give the definitive answer," confirmed Foreman.

"I guess it's time to break the news to Mrs. Hunter," Chase said. "Did you get any kind of feeling from her as to whether she has any suspicions?" he asked Thirteen.

"No, she…" Thirteen was interrupted by the sound of someone coming into the lab. It was Jeffery Davidson, a bit early for their meeting; he was clearly out of breath and obviously out of sorts. He spied House over by the console and ran straight over to him.

"You won't believe what Malcolm is planning on doing to you."


	12. Chapter 12

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Twelve -"Taking the Stage"

By: Purpleu

Everyone in the room stood or sat in stunned silence, their mouths agape. House, who had been standing behind Foreman, blindly reached to his right for the chair that was there and sat down. Finally the silence was broken by Jeanne Hunter.

"Jeff, what's the matter? What's going on?" she asked. She had stopped moving the water bottle and without the distraction, Tyler became agitated; he started to laugh and the laughter became more intense as the seconds passed. Then the hand flapping and the arm waving began. Foreman quickly responded to Tyler's actions.

"Mrs. Hunter, please keep moving the water bottle for Tyler; we're not finished with the test yet and if he moves around too much, it will negate the results."

"I'm sorry," she said and quickly resumed pacifying her son with the half empty bottle. Everyone in the room was looking at House who sat motionless, staring at the floor.

"You can give me the gory details when we get into my office in a little bit," he said finally as he looked at his watch. "But in general outline form, what is that SOB planning?"

"Remember when he was here a few months ago and he told Dr. Cuddy that you would be living in a box because you wouldn't be able to practice medicine? He intends on making that come true," Davidson said.

"What? How the hell is he going to do that?" demanded Wilson. Davidson shook his head.

"You have no idea the lengths he is going to in order to pull this off," he said. House stood up.

"I wouldn't put anything past that mother…" House stopped himself; he knew if he continued it would be nothing more than a barrage of obscenities coming out of him, which would serve no purpose at the moment. He took a deep breath. "Are you almost finished with the test?" he said to Foreman.

"I need another five or ten minutes; I want to make sure the printouts are clear and then we can bring Tyler back to his room." House nodded and looked at Taub.

"Did you contact Dr. Lindeman's group?"

"Yes, I'm waiting for them to return my message," he said as he took a Munchkin out of the box.

"Leave some of those for the pigeons," ordered House. "I'm figuring that Hunter's going to bring his stench around here at some point today; any idea what time?" he asked Davidson.

"He's got a pretty full schedule today; he has a breakfast meeting at eight-thirty in Manhattan, then a court appearance at one, an appeals court hearing at two-thirty and a speaking engagement at a Bar Association dinner in Trenton that starts at six-thirty."

"So, he's going to be squeezing it in to show up here." Davidson nodded.

"Today it's a go, go, go day."

"I'm glad you know all that," Jeanne Hunter said. "It's more than what he tells me."

"Do you really care?" House asked. Mrs. Hunter sighed.

"No; I just like to know so I can avoid him." House grimly shook his head and turned to his team.

"Finish up with the kid, get him back to his room and give him something to keep him calm while mom's at our meeting. Don't overdo it in case someone from Lindeman's group wants to come in and start an evaluation; I want them to get a true picture of what the kid does and doesn't do so they can best recommend what kind of treatments he needs." He turned to Davidson.

"If you had to take a guess, when would you say Hunter's going to make his grand entrance? Between eleven-thirty and twelve or between four-thirty and five?"

"I would say between eleven-thirty and twelve. It still gives him enough time for his usual three martini lunch."

"I think I could use one of those myself today. Come up when you're finished here." House said directing the comment to all in the room. "I'll be in my office." He walked out of the lab, toward the elevators.

"Can Hunter really do what you said before?" asked Wilson. "I mean, House has done nothing wrong…recently."

"That's just it," Davidson said, "recently. But there have been enough times in the past when he has done things that have fallen through the cracks or been very quietly swept under the rug. Medical records aren't the only data that's kept on a doctor's work here or at any hospital. There are records kept on how many lawsuits have been filed against them and how much have they cost the hospital in legal fees and settlements. If you look at Dr. House's file, it doesn't paint a pretty picture; but he still has brought in more money in donations and grants than he costs the hospital. That being said, the black marks are still there. And it's exactly those things that Malcolm is counting on to catch up with Dr. House and ruin him." Wilson and the team let out a collective sigh.

"If you'll excuse me, I want to talk with House," Wilson said. "I'll see you in the conference room." He hurried past Davidson to try and catch up to House; for someone with a cane and a bum leg, he sure could move when he wanted to, thought Wilson. As he pushed his way through a set of double doors, Wilson could see House waiting by the elevators, pacing back and forth, clearly pissed.

"Hey," Wilson said as he approached.

"I don't need a babysitter," House said angrily pushing the button again.

"I never said you did; but if you don't calm down, you won't think clearly and you'll do something stupid that you're going to regret. You've got your team; you've got me. For what that's worth, I think you're in a much better position that someone like Hunter could ever be." The elevator doors opened and House and Wilson had to step aside to let an orderly wheeling a gurney pass. They entered the car and House pushed the button for the fourth floor.

"You know, I'm really glad you said that," House said as he looked up at the numbers ticking off for the floors passing by. "Do me a favor: come visit me at my box warming party along the side of the road and repeat that to me; it'll give me a mantra to chant in the small hours of the morning when the roar of the traffic flow has lessened and I need something to help me fall asleep." The elevator arrived at the floor for House's office and he quickly exited as soon as the doors opened. Wilson followed closely behind.

"House, you are not going to wind up homeless and Hunter's not going to stop you from practicing medicine. We're going to know what he's up to before he acts; Davidson just gave us an inkling as to what Hunter's scheme is, he told us after you left the room." House stopped walking and looked at Wilson. "Davidson said that even though you bring in a lot of money to the hospital in grants and donations, you've had a lot of lawsuits filed against you over the years; there are things that have been kept quiet that are going to come back and bite you." House looked down the hallway, away from Wilson.

"Cuddy ran interference plenty of times over the years, but she always said she took care of it so that neither one of us would have to worry; her firm little tukus was on the line too, and she wasn't about to take a fall just for me," said House. "I wonder if there were things she didn't take care of nearly as well as she thought she did."

"Let's face it; we're discovering that the finances of the hospital aren't as rosy as we thought they were; who knows what else wasn't handled well." Wilson started to walk away and then stopped. "Damn! I feel like such a shumuck bad mouthing Cuddy like that," Wilson said as he looked at House with guilt in his eyes.

"Whether Cuddy was standing here defending herself or sitting in a wheelchair with drool slowly dripping down her chin, facts are facts; if she screwed something up, then she screwed it up. No amount of guilt is going to change that." House's cell phone began to vibrate indicating an incoming call. He pulled it out and took a look; it was Lydia. "What the hell does she want?" House muttered out loud.

"Hi, what's up?" he said flatly as he answered the phone.

"Hi, sorry to bother you, but you left part of the files on the floor by the bed. I spotted them when I was changing the sheets."

"Crap! I need to give Foreman the complete file to take to the meeting he has later this morning." House narrowed his eyes. "Is there any way you could bring them to me? Or maybe I could send someone over…"

"Greg," Lydia interrupted, "I'm in the lobby. I didn't want to appear pushy and go upstairs right to your office door." House closed his eyes and actually allowed a small smile to form on his lips. He should have known that she would bring him the file immediately.

"I'll have Wilson come down and get you. Do you have a minute or do you have to get ready for the first interview?"

"I have time; I got done as quickly as I could after I found the file. I left the bed a bit of a mess, but I can stop back home later and finish changing it." House liked the way Lydia referred to his apartment as 'home'; he just hoped it would continue to be.

"OK, Wilson's on his way down. See you in a minute or two." Wilson had already started to walk away from House and head to the elevators. "Hey, wuss," House shouted in Wilson's direction. Wilson turned around, a puzzled expression on his face. "Don't keep a lady waiting; take the stairs." Wilson was about to say something, but then stopped himself and headed to the stairway.

House walked down the hall to the water fountain at the end. A woman was there trying to help a little boy get a drink. She held him up in her arms and encouraged him to press the button to make the water jump up; more than once, he got too close and laughed as the water squirted him in the face. After a minute, the two walked away hand in hand. House closed his eyes and wished he had the strength to ask his mother about his childhood, why she had let things happen the way they did. If she had stepped in, maybe things would be different; maybe he wouldn't dislike most people so much and maybe they wouldn't dislike him. Maybe he'd actually care what people thought and maybe Malcolm Hunter wouldn't be trying to ruin his life right now.

He stepped over to the fountain, took a drink and turned to go back to his office; as he did, he felt a weight lift at least part way off his shoulders as he saw Lydia standing by his office door. If he didn't have her right now, he knew without a doubt, that Vicodin would once again be his best friend.

"I didn't want to tread on sacred ground without a proper escort," she said with a smile, indicating House's office and the conference room.

"Wilson just dumped you here and ran? I'm going to have a talk with that boy about the proper way to treat a woman," House said as he drew near. He gave Lydia a kiss and pushed open the door to his office. She hesitated as she passed the door itself to take a look at what was etched on it: Gregory House, M.D., Department of Diagnostics. A department he had started; a branch of study he had advanced to help so many. She reached her hand up to touch the letters on the door.

"Your father was so wrong," she said softly.

"So was yours," he answered. Lydia shook her head and pointed to the words on the door. She turned to say something to House, but he had his head down looking away from her. Lydia realized she embarrassed him and moved to a chair in front of his desk; she sat down, put her black leather messenger bag on the floor and quickly changed the subject.

"James left because I told him to go call Annie; she was asking me this morning if she should be bold and ask James if he would like to 'get together' for a cup of coffee; I told her to be patient that I was quite sure an invitation was coming her way." House smiled.

"Awww…doesn't it feel good getting those two crazy kids together?" he said sarcastically, obviously relieved at the different route the conversation was taking.

"Greg, you know what a huge step that was for Annie to even think about asking a man to meet her, even for something as simple as coffee. I am so thrilled, seeing her act unafraid…it's wonderful," Lydia said with a huge smile on her face. House nodded in agreement.

"Speaking of java, want some?" he asked holding up his cup.

"No, thank you. I managed to get two cups into me since you left; anymore and I'll be playing trills instead of runs on the piano." She looked around his office. "You have an interesting collection of decorations in here." She stood up and picked up his oversized tennis ball. "Is the racket that goes with this proportionate in size?"

"I always thought so," House said pulling her toward him for a hug. "What's your opinion?"

"Well, since I still think of things in terms of centimeters rather than inches, my evaluation may be slightly skewered," she said with an impish gleam in her eye. House put his index finger up to his lips.

"Shhh; I won't tell anyone if you don't." He gave her a kiss and turned to head to the conference room for his coffee. Lydia followed behind him and paused to look at different medical reference books that lined the shelves. She picked one up and began to page through, stopping several times to read passages from the book. House watched her as she nodded her head on more than one occasion, seeming as if she was saying, "I remember now…"

"You miss it," he said.

"So much so that it hurts," she admitted. "I knew that I would inevitably wind up coming here and seeing your office, the conference room; but I'm remembering all the different cases you told me about and I can just see you and your team sitting here, discussing symptoms, diseases, evaluating and interpreting test results, treatment methods, all that goes with being a doctor. I…" Lydia couldn't find the words to properly convey the despair she felt at failing to complete the work she needed to do in order to go on to medical school. She walked to the head of the conference table at the end near House's office and sat down.

"I know you are an ivory tickler beyond compare; well maybe with one small bit of competition," House noted. Lydia was too down to even deliver a comeback right now. "You love kids; I can tell you're a great mother. I'm sure you'll be a great teacher; but this is what you want. Being with me, you're going to be exposed to this more and more; if you don't take steps to do something about it, it's going to eat you up."

"What am I supposed to do? Walk in here and say, 'Hi, what's the next case, I'm here to help.' Your team may resent it or treat me with kid gloves; that's the last thing I would want."

"True, but if once in a while you sat down and listened to what we were talking about, contributed, it might be enough of a refresher course for you to feel that you could handle this." Lydia looked at House; he had to keep from smiling as he saw that same steely look in her eyes that he saw last night when they were discussing her father's doubts over her abilities.

"I know I _can_ handle this," she said. "The question is _how_. There is only one of me and twenty four hours in a day." House let out a sigh.

"Let me get past what's going on with Hunter and make sure I still have this for you to make use of. I promise you I'll be as hard on you, if not harder, than I would any of my team, no special treatment; I don't care how much you'd try to bribe me with your body." Lydia gave him a look. "OK, that's not true; I'd fold like an origami swan." She finally was able to laugh.

"How is it you always know how to make me happy?" Lydia asked as she reached for House's hand. She stood up and House gave her a gentle hug.

"I'm not sure; I just hope I can keep it going," he said brushing his hand along her cheek. House brought his fingers under her chin and was moving in to kiss her, when he heard the voices of Wilson and his team coming down the hall. "Damn! Forgot to lock the bedroom door," he said as he backed up from Lydia. She leaned forward and gave him a fast kiss.

"A quickie is better than nothing," she said seeing House's surprised expression.

"Hey, Lydia," Chase said as he entered the room. He sat down at the table with his coffee cup and various piles of papers.

"Good morning," said Taub who was carrying the remnants of the Munchkins. He set the box down near the coffee maker and took a seat.

"Morning." Foreman nodded in Lydia's direction as he went over to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup. Wilson and Thirteen were the last to enter the room.

"Hi," Thirteen said. She stopped and did a double take as she looked at Lydia. "Wow, you look really nice. Going somewhere special?"

"I have two interviews today," Lydia said. "One is a second interview at the school I was at on Monday and the other is the Waldorf School."

"I couldn't tell when you spoke yesterday whether you were a teacher or in medicine," Taub said.

"Officially, I'm a teaching assistant; the rest of it is a bit of a complicated story," she said. In short order, she related her educational journey from Hopkins until now. "So, it's a matter of finding a place that needs an assistant teacher in music. I think the concentration I did in special ed will help, too."

"That's how you knew it was Angelman's," noted Chase.

"I didn't know it was Angelman's; Greg did," she said gesturing at House with her head.

"Not until you did your happy puppet dance," House said as he went into his office.

"I guess your new nickname is 'Pinocchio'," Thirteen said, smiling. Lydia shrugged.

"I like the sound of 'Fraulein' better." She looked into the hallway and saw Jeanne Hunter and Jeffrey Davidson approaching. "I think the other people you need to start your meeting have arrived." Everyone turned to look at the door as it opened and the pair walked in; Lydia slipped into House's office to pick up her bag.

"Here, I haven't even given you the report yet," Lydia said quietly as she removed the paperwork from her bag and handed it to House.

"Thanks; I've got to get the rest of it from Chase and Wilson so Foreman has a complete set to bring with him to his meeting." House looked into the conference room and noticed that Mrs. Hunter looked very agitated and definitely not a happy camper. "What the hell has set her off?" Lydia glanced over her shoulder.

"She's crying, poor thing. This must be so hard on her, between dealing with her son's condition and what would appear to be the final unraveling of her marriage…"

"I have no sympathy; she's the one who chose to marry and stay with the bastard," he said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, House wanted to kick himself. He could see that Lydia had closed her eyes and was biting her bottom lip. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did." She opened her eyes and looked at House; he regretted what he had said even more. "We…we can talk about it later. You'd better put that away with the other copy you have of the report," she said as she swung her bag onto her shoulder. House was about to say something, when the words 'other copy' jumped out at him. He walked past Lydia and into the conference room.

"I don't suppose when you busy little beavers were making copies of the report that he," House said indicating Davidson, "brought us that you thought to change the 'copies selected' button to two?" Chase, Taub and Thirteen looked at each other.

"No, you only said to make _a_ copy," Chase said. "You didn't say anything about multiples."

"And when you order a Big Mac, the acne riddle teenager behind the counter knows it makes sense to put two all-beef patties on the bun," House said.

"Why do we need two copies?" asked Wilson.

"Because we're going to send Henry Kissinger out to roam the streets of town with the report," explained House, indicating Foreman. We're going to get another copy of it eventually but this is all we've got for now."

"How are you going to get another copy?" Davidson asked.

"She," said House as he nodded his head at Jeanne, "is going to exercise her rights, both as a mother and a founding member of the law firm's incorporation."

"I'm not sure what you mean by that, Dr. House. I have nothing to do with my husband law firm." House got a little annoyed at her lack of understanding.

"When you form a corporation, you need three people. For jerkface's practice it was him, you and your father. Therefore, you are entitled to certain rights and privileges including going into his office and removing the medical records of your son that he's hiding there." Jeanne shook her head slowly.

"I never signed or authorized any such thing," she said. "My father would never sign something like that either; he hates Malcolm, he never approved of our marriage, he didn't attend our wedding." Everyone in the room looked at each other, not sure what to make of what Jeanne Hunter was saying.

"Ten years ago you never signed incorporation papers, never went before a notary," House asked. "Your name before you got married was Carmichael?"

"Yes, that was my maiden name; but ten years ago, Malcolm and I had just started dating. I certainly would have never signed anything like that." There was a momentary quiet in the room.

"That son-of-a-bitch!" exclaimed Jeffrey Davidson. Jeanne had dropped her head into her hands and was motionless as Davidson rubbed her back.

"Looks like we've found another bunch of lies we can nail the weasel with. Wilson, Chase; get me the copies of the files that you took home last night. We've got to figure out how to clone them in the next two hours," said House.

"I put them on your desk when I came up here with Lydia," Wilson said. Chase stood up and took a bundle of papers from the stack in front of him and walked them into House's office.

"We can't use the copy machines around the hospital," Thirteen said. "It would be too obvious and someone's bound to question it."

"With our luck, it will be the wrong someone and the wrong question," observed House. "Is there a copy machine in Cuddy's office? That'd be the perfect little hideaway to pull this off."

"Cuddy never had anything as extravagant as her own copy machine in there; there was no need for it," Foreman said.

"There was no need for her to have leather sofas and mahogany paneling, yet there it is, for all to behold and see," House said.

"You have a copy machine in your office." House turned at the sound of Lydia's voice; despite Wilson mentioning her a minute ago, he had forgotten she was in the room. Chase, who was exiting House's office, seemed surprised.

"I'm missing something," Chase said looking over his shoulder. "Where is there a copy machine?" House smiled as he realized what Lydia was referring to.

"The printer on my computer has the ability to make copies. It'll be slower, but it'll work," he said going back into his office, sitting down at his desk and checking the ink level on his printer.

"Which one of us do you want to pull away from this meeting to do the copying?" Taub asked. House let out a sigh of frustration as he stared at the floor. Taub had a point. He needed everyone to understand the approach they were going to take with things in reference to Hunter; depending on what Davidson had to tell them about Hunter's nefarious plans that approach may change.

"I can make the copies." House picked his head up and looked at Lydia.

"You have your interviews to go to," he said as he stood up.

"I received a message this morning right before I called you. They asked me to push it back until eleven-thirty. Since my next interview isn't until two, there's no problem; I can make the copies," she said looking House straight in the eye. He looked away and nodded as Lydia walked past him to sit down at his desk. She started to flip through the files, frowning as she did so. "Ultimately, you want a second copy of this in its entirety, which you're going to get; but for now, to save time, couldn't you just take copies of the most pertinent parts of the files to the other meeting?" she asked looking up at House. Foreman heard what Lydia said and rose from his seat to join House and Lydia in House's office.

"We could just copy the summary from the pediatrician who diagnosed the CP, the therapists' evaluations and recommendations; then jump forward to the accident and whatever reports came from that and finally the report summary written by Winken, Blinken and Nod. Any test printouts should be copied, too," stated House. He became aware of Foreman standing by the door. "Works for you?" House said acknowledging his presence.

"Sounds good; as long as we're giving him the highlights, I think it should be enough." Lydia took the reports and began to pull out the summaries and test results House had mentioned. "By the way," Foreman said dropping his voice down, "someone from Lindeman's team approached Mrs. Hunter and started talking about autism and Angelman's and she got really upset."

"I was wondering what turned on the faucet," said House in the same quiet voice. "Talking this over is going to be more fun than a barrel full of marmosets."

"Don't you mean monkeys?" Lydia asked as she pushed the button to start making the first copy.

"You choose your primate, I'll choose mine. Here's the last of what you're going to need to copy," House said laying a pile of papers near Lydia and moving the rest into a manila envelope and putting them in his desk drawer. He turned and nodded to Foreman.

"Be right in." Foreman headed back to his seat at the conference table. House leaned over Lydia who was moving the copy making along as quickly as she could.

"Thank you; I'm sure you don't feel like doing this, especially after I stuck my foot in my mouth up to my kneecap." Lydia didn't look at him as she continued with her work.

"I am neither petty nor vindictive," she said. "I am not happy with what you said before; I'm hurt. But I know you didn't say it to deliberately hurt me or push me away. It is your opinion and you are entitled to it." She finally turned to look at House. "I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone. It's going to take a hell of a lot more than one myopic opinion to change that fact. Now go tell Mrs. Hunter what her son's situation is. I'll bring these in as soon as I'm done." She turned her back to him and continued to fiddle with the report, trying to get it back into chronological order. House stood motionless behind Lydia for a moment; if he didn't love and admire her before this, he sure as hell did now. He leaned down and brought his mouth next to her ear.

"Ich liebe dich," he whispered softly and without waiting for her reply, turned and headed into the conference room which has been buzzing with chatter while he was in with Lydia. House walked over to one of the white boards; he realized he hadn't needed to ask Wilson to bring the others into the room, but he wasn't sure what they were dealing with when this started yesterday afternoon.

"Here's where things stand with our patient…" House said in a loud voice to get everyone's attention as he picked up a marker.

"Tyler," Thirteen interjected, giving a sideways glance to Jeanne Hunter.

"Tyler," House repeated. "We've confirmed a diagnosis of cerebral palsy; your pediatrician made note of it, attributing low muscle tone and developmental delays to the disease." House had written the number one and CP after it on the board. "We also noted two other abnormalities coinciding with CP that provided additional confirmation: flat feet and hands." He listed all the symptoms under "CP."

"I was aware of the flat feet," Mrs. Hunter said, "Tyler's worn a maximum orthotic since he was two; I never noticed the flat hands."

"Is that why he has trouble holding a pencil or a crayon?" Davidson asked.

"And why he can't feed himself, dress himself or hold his wienie straight when he tries to pee," House said.

"He wears a diaper," Jeanne said.

"Because he can't hold his wienie straight," agreed House.

"He was doing well with the therapies he was receiving," Chase said. "It's shame they were stopped prematurely; many of the difficulties he experiences with everyday tasks could have been lessened if they had continued. Why did the therapies stop?" Mrs. Hunter dropped her eyes down so as to avoid the questioning looks of the team.

"Malcolm didn't think he was making any progress and refused to pay for them anymore. He wouldn't submit the bills through insurance, and since he was the policy holder, I had no recourse. He thought that the therapists were babying him; when Tyler couldn't perform a simple task, the therapists would be very gentle and encouraging. My husband…would get furious, yell and scream…it was awful." An awkward silence hung in the air as Jeanne Hunter began to cry.

"Excuse me, Dr. House?" House quickly turned and looked at his office at the sound of Lydia's voice. "Your printer's run out of paper; where can I get some more?" House managed not to smile at Lydia calling him "Dr. House."

"I have some extra paper in my office; I'll go get it," Wilson offered. Jeanne was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue as she turned to look at Lydia.

"So, I see your husband makes you address him formally when he's at work, just like mine does," she said speaking to Lydia. Wilson, who had started to rise up to get the copy paper, froze midway to standing; the expressions on everyone's faces, a perfect blend of shock and amusement, were beyond compare. Even House, who was rarely left without something to say, was rendered speechless; only Lydia had the composure to answer Jeanne without laughing.

"I'm not Dr. House's wife; I'm his girlfriend," she said. Jeanne put a hand up to her mouth, embarrassed at her mistake.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume anything; it's just the feeling that I got from watching the two of you."

"Nah," House said recovering sufficiently to speak. "I don't hate her enough to marry her. Actually, I don't believe in the institution of marriage; there's a reason why they call it an institution."

"I've been married," said Lydia, "and I'm not so sure I believe in it anymore, either. So, we're a good match, in that respect." She glanced quickly over at House and smiled. Looking back at Wilson who had straightened up, but hadn't moved, she asked, "Dr. Wilson, you said you had paper?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, I'll be right back." He left the conference room and moved quickly down the hall to his office.

"So, continuing with your son, we have problem number two," said House as he wrote the two and the words "autism/Angelman's Syndrome" on the board. "The EEG, the test we just did, looks at your son's brain waves, their amplitudes, their peaks and spikes. The tests done at St. James Hospital confirmed that the patterns presented are consistent with a diagnosis of autism; except when they wrote the report that was given to the court and to us, it magically transformed into a dung heap."

"What is Angelman's Syndrome? I've never heard of it," Davidson said.

"Most people haven't; it has a very low prevalence rate, about one in every twenty-five thousand," said Foreman. "My specialty is neurology and other than discussing it briefly in med school, I've never actually dealt with a case that concerns Angelman's." The rest of the team all agreed that they had never had a case before.

"Neither have I," admitted House. Wilson walked quietly back into the room, sensing things were at a critical point; he handed the paper to Lydia and went back over to his seat. "Years ago, the disease was called Happy Puppet Syndrome; then when things became all politically correct and we weren't allowed to give an accurate description of the patient's appearance and behavior, the name was changed to Angelman's Syndrome after an English pediatrician, Dr. Henry Angelman who first noticed the behaviors associated with the disease."

"What causes it? Is it genetic?" asked Jeanne Hunter, her voice quivering.

"The problem lies on chromosome fifteen; a normal person receives two copies, one from the mother, one from the father. In the region of the chromosome that's critical to Angelman's, the maternal contribution is lost or mutated. There is another way the maternal contribution is suppressed and that would be if the paternal copy takes over and mutes the maternal; which given the nature of the person donating the paternal chromosome, would not be a surprise in this case." Jeanne Hunter was shaking as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

"This is my fault; not only did I give him this disease, I chose a bastard of a man for his father, who is going to give him no support, no help and no love." Jeanne began sobbing in earnest and Davidson moved in closer to put his arm around her and comfort her. The team sat in an uncomfortable silence; none of them knew what to say. While things weren't as bleak as Tyler's mother was probably assuming right now, when you receive news such as she just did, things look very dark. House decided to retrieve his cup and get the coffee he never did have earlier this morning. As he began to walk to his office, he became aware of Lydia speaking.

"Mrs. Hunter, there have been tremendous strides in the treatment of both CP and autism in all its forms. I understand your reaction to the news, but please believe me, with the proper IEP in place to lay out a plan to help Tyler and support from you and your friends," Lydia said smiling at Davidson, "the progress he could make will amaze you. Now, I haven't seen Tyler, but from what I've been told, he has cognitive ability. He can make choices. That is a very important thing; it shows thinking on a higher level. From what I understand, he chooses to head butt his dad in the groin." For the first time since they saw Jeanne Hunter when she came into the hospital with her son, House and the team saw her smile; then the smile became a laugh.

"He head butts Malcolm ALL the time," she said still laughing. "All I have to do is whisper in Tyler's ear, 'Tell Daddy how much you love him,' and he runs at Malcolm with a full head of steam." Everyone in the room erupted into laughter at Jeanne's revelation, even House.

"I knew that kid was da bomb," he said. Davidson and Jeanne looked at each other.

"Jeff says that about him all the time," she noted. "Dr. House, do we have time to take a short break? I need to get some air." House nodded in the affirmative.

"As long as you're sure numbnuts isn't coming around anytime soon." Davidson couldn't stop laughing at House's nickname for Hunter as he looked at his watch.

"We're safe," he said. He and Jeanne started to walk to the door. "Oh, wait a minute," Davidson said. "Obviously I'll go over this with you in more detail and answer any questions you have, but let me tell you now basically what Malcolm's up to. Will you be alright for five minutes while I tell them about this?" he said to Jeanne. She nodded her head and they sat back down.

"I think I'd better grab a seat, too," House said. He looked at his watch. "What time do you have to get out of here by?" he asked Lydia.

"Eleven, maybe five after." He nodded. "I still have about twenty copies to make."

"Come have a seat; this ultimately affects you, too." He reached out for her hand which took her by surprise; House didn't care who was in the room to see it at that point. "The floor is yours," he said gesturing to Davidson.

"Malcolm has been planning this for a long time; he was just waiting for the right moment to put everything in motion. Basically, he's reviewing all the cases you've ever handled here at PPTH and he's eliminating those that have already won or settled suits against you. He's going to do that by reviewing the legal and financial files and cross referencing them. Then he's approaching all the patients that have never filed suit and is trying to convince them that you did wrong by them and they should allow him to file a suit on their behalf."

"He's taking a gamble that he can get those people to agree to let him file; House has helped far more people than he's hurt," said Wilson.

"Yes, but Malcolm has several things working in his favor: he's going for the 'pain and suffering' route; in these hard economic times, the idea of scoring some money with no outlay on their part will outweigh gratitude and lastly…" Davidson sighed. "It's Malcolm Hunter; some people will jump at the chance just to get their fifteen minutes of fame. He's playing the odds, but with all the patients Dr. House has treated, he'll get enough takers to accomplish his goal."

"Which is what exactly?" asked House.

"First, he already has a bunch of people who have said yes; he plans on filing the first ten 'intention to file suit' with the court on Friday; all he has to do is wait until Tuesday and he can file the suits themselves."

"And then the hospital is notified by the court and they are required to suspend me due to the number of suits that have been filed in such a short time span; the court also notifies the state licensing board and since I will have ten suits against me in less than three months, by law, they have to suspend my license for an indefinite period," concluded House

"That's ridiculous!" Lydia said, clearly upset. "It's obvious Hunter's out to get him."

"Yes, the board will review it, find it frivolous, throw it out and just as the board is about restore his license, Malcolm will file the next ten and start the process all over," Davidson said. "The real problem comes in number twenty-five."

"Automatic suspension for one year, no exceptions," House said. "I guess the legal department will be earning it's keep around here." Davidson looked at Wilson and Foreman, both of them sitting in shock.

"That bastard! That bastard!" Wilson yelled and jumped up from the table. House looked puzzled; he didn't understand Wilson's outburst.

"House, the financial problems came to light around here when you were in the coma. Some radical steps had to be taken to keep the hospital going," Foreman said. "One of the courtesies extended to the department heads at PPTH is the use of the legal department to defend against any lawsuits resulting from your work here at the hospital; you've used it many times. A vote was taken among the department heads, asking them to allow us to suspend that courtesy until further notice. When Hunter brings all these suits, you won't have use of legal here; you'll have to get your own lawyer."

"You mean lawyers, plural; with ten, twenty suits being filed, that's what will be needed." House stood up and started to pace. "All of them with a retainer, all of them charging three hundred bucks an hour."

"My God, Greg. Do you realize how much that will cost?" Lydia asked. House nodded.

"Enough to put me in a cardboard box."


	13. Chapter 13

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Thirteen -"Stealing the Show"

By: Purpleu

"There is no way in hell Hunter is going to get away with this," Wilson said angrily.

"Who the hell does he think he is?" Foreman asked.

"If he can try and do this to House, he can do it to anyone," Taub pointed out.

"What an ass!" Chase exclaimed.

"I don't think his son hit him in the nuts often enough," Thirteen muttered.

"Ich hoffe das Schwein brennt in der Hölle." Jeanne Hunter looked at Lydia.

"I can only guess at what you just said, but I'm sure I would agree."

"I know what she just said; she wishes that the guy whose parents never married has a nice trip south of the border," said House. He looked around the room. "Are you all finished? Got being P.O.'d out of your systems? Good. Because now maybe you can actually _help_ and ask some questions that we can get useful answers to," he said raising his voice. House turned to Davidson. "Where are you getting your information from and how reliable is it? 'Cause if it's from the fortune cookies they hand out with what they dare to call Chinese food down in the cafeteria, I happen to know those are written by a middle-aged guy who still lives in his parents' basement." House caught Lydia's eye and winked; he had seen how upset she was and wanted to calm her down before she lost it. As much as he appreciated her love and concern, he needed to concentrate on what Davidson had to say.

"My information comes from a very reliable source; one of the attorneys that works for Malcolm, Tom Roslyn. He also happens to be my brother-in-law, my late wife's brother. He's a good guy."

"Then what the hell is he doing working for Hunter?" Wilson asked.

"He started with the firm a few years ago; he wasn't too far out of law school and a bit naïve," Davidson said. "He was unwilling to accept the idea that Malcolm could get away with the things that people said he did."

"A naïve lawyer? Talk about a freak," House said. Davidson laughed.

"I always told Tom it wasn't in his nature to be practicing law; he would have been better off as a paralegal since he enjoyed the behind the scenes leg work and research, but not the courtroom, the confrontational part of the profession. Still, Tom knows his way around in court and has won a lot of cases and brought in a lot of money to the firm. So when Malcolm decided he was going to need someone to help him make this case against Dr. House…"

"He chose Tommy Boy," said House. The need for that long overdue cup of coffee began to gnaw at him as House moved over to the coffee machine. "So you're saying Hunter picked a legal eagle with a conscience? That doesn't make much sense."

"Malcolm doesn't bother to find out much about his employees other than will they do his bidding without asking questions and how much cash will they bring into the firm. Tom was smart; he just took on the cases Malcolm gave him and handled them well. He's been just biding his time until his contract is up."

"Hunter makes his employees sign a contract?" Foreman asked. "I can only imagine what it says."

"It basically lays down salary and commission for the lawyers and straight salaries for the paralegals and me. But it also specifies that if you leave before the end of the contract, you are enjoined from working for another law firm within a fifty mile radius for one year," Davidson said. "Tom's contract is over in three weeks and he cannot wait to leave. I don't know of anyone who has ever re-upped with Malcolm."

"So we lose our number one inside man at that point. And when do you get to head to less manure filled pastures?" asked House.

"My contract expired two months ago, when the ball started rolling with this plan against you; Malcolm's been so caught up in all the nonsense that he forgot to write out a new contract." Davidson stood up and joined House over by the coffee machine. "I stayed on because that's when Malcolm started saying that Jeanne should take Tyler to you and your team; it was also at that time that Tom had found out about this whole mess and came to me asking what he should do. He didn't know anything about you before all this started, but as he read over the files to see who potential clients were, he very quickly came to realize the type of work you've done and that this wasn't just Malcolm trying to cash in on a big opportunity," Davidson said as he poured a cup of coffee. "This was a vendetta against you. He let me see the files and while I will concede that your methods sometimes are a bit to the extreme, the lives you've helped and saved…" He started to choke up as he walked back to his seat. "I only wish I had known about you when my daughter was sick." Jeanne reached over to take his hand as he sat down. House looked at Davidson while he took a sip of his own coffee.

"That would be Wilson you would have needed, not me," he said as he walked to the table and took the chair next to Lydia.

"Dr. Wilson is here helping you with this case; I'm sure you would have helped him if he asked." House nodded as he glanced at Wilson who had a slight smile on his face. "Dr. House, I don't pretend for one moment to be a man of great moral principles; that I'm in love with another man's wife and let him put money in my pocket each week, attests to my failings. The only justification I can offer is that I'm trying my damnedest to make someone who has never known much joy in her life, happy." Wilson looked over at House and Lydia; while neither one reacted visually to Davidson's words, he was sure they were holding hands under the table. Davidson looked at House.

"I know you can't cure Tyler; I knew that from the start. But I knew you were the person to help point us in the right direction to get him help so that he and Jeanne can have a better quality of life."

"So this is a trade-off; my team and I figure out how to help the kid, you help me figure out how to nail Hunter," House said. "Seems like a fair deal." Davidson shook his head.

"Whether you were willing or able to help Tyler had nothing to do with it; it simply made things easier by giving me an excuse to have contact with you and be of help to you. I would have contacted you about this no matter what. Like I said before, my principles may be able to be called into question on some subjects," Davidson said looking at Jeanne, "but I will stand up for what I believe in; and that includes a good man being wronged. I know next to nothing about you personally, but I think the best judgment of a man's character, is the quality of the people who are willing to be associated with him." He looked at Wilson, Lydia and the team. "I think the people in this room speak volumes to that." House stared down at the conference table without a change in expression; he was silent for a few moments.

"I'm not one to praise or compliment; I don't believe it serves any purpose," House began, "My team gets paid to come in, solve medical cases and then send the patient home; if they do that without screwing things up, they get a paycheck and the right to come back in and tackle the next case. Wilson and Lydia," he said looking at each in turn, "are my best friend and girlfriend, respectively, through their own masochistic misjudgments." House paused. "That having been said, I totally agree with your sentiments." The team all smiled a bit and exchanged subtle looks; House glanced over at Wilson and caught sight of the smile on his face. Lydia squeezed House's hand as he turned to look at her; Wilson had been right: they were holding hands under the table.

"Mr. Davidson, how is Hunter getting a hold of all these files?" Chase asked.

"From the lovely young creature I almost ran into earlier," House said. Lydia quickly turned and shot him a puzzled look. Ignoring her reaction, he continued speaking and related the story of running into the young woman this morning that was carrying an armful of House's case files. "She said she was taking them to the legal department; but I have a feeling she meant legal as in Hunter's office."

"She most certainly did, if we're talking about the same young woman; her name is Cheryl Cooke," said Davidson.

"Damn! That's her!" Wilson exclaimed looking at House. "She's been working here for a couple of years now. Is that how long Hunter's had a spy here in the hospital?"

"Not that I'm aware of. When Malcolm and I were here a few months ago to meet with Dr. Cuddy, she needed an additional file for the suit that was being discussed and called medical records to get the information brought to her office. Cheryl was the one to bring the file and….well, let's just say she caught Malcolm's eye," said Davidson as he glanced at Jeanne. "Sorry," he said addressing her. She laughed and shook her head.

"You know I don't care. I stopped caring a long time ago." Davidson nodded.

"With good reason. So, Malcolm's been wining and dining Ms. Cooke and obviously, she agreed to get him the files he needed," he said.

"All those files have left the hospital? That more than compromises the integrity of those files," Foreman said.

"The files haven't necessarily left the hospital," House said as he stood up. "She could have printed out copies directly from the computer; but that would have left a trail that would be too easy to trace back to her log-in password."

"Unless she used someone else's computer to look up the files," offered Taub. "We're all guilty of forgetting to log-off sometimes."

"Some more than others," noted House.

"But that kind of activity would have still raised a red flag," Foreman said. "There are security measures in place that would alert medical records or IT or someone."

"Unless…Unless you and Hunter both thought the same way," Lydia said to House. "She's taking the physical files out and she's making copies of them, just like they did," she said gesturing to the team, "with the medical records that Hunter kept locked in his office. She could have made the copies here or at Hunter's office or even take them to a Staples or Office Max; they'd never question why she was making these copies, they don't care what's brought in to them. Especially if she went to different locations and paid in cash, there's no tracing it."

"Oh yes, there is," said House with a sly smile. "My team wore gloves. PYT did not."

"That's right; she had no protective covering on her hands when we saw her," Wilson said.

"She could have wiped the files down," said Chase. "At the very least it would smudge the prints."

"There are far too many pieces of paper for her to have done that effectively," noted House. He looked at Davidson. "When did you say Hunter got his claws into her?"

"He first met her about two or three weeks before the crane accident happened. The wining and dining started right away. He had no intention of using her to help with his plan; it was after the accident that he decided to put the wheels in motion and use her." Davidson sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I hate to tell you this, but it just goes to show how much of an SOB Malcolm can be: When he heard about the accident and that Dr. Cuddy was so severely injured and the fact that you," he motioned toward House, "were in a coma, he decided to take advantage of the situation. That's when he convinced her to start making the copies. After you came out of the coma, he found out that you'd be returning to work fairly quickly and started to really push Jeanne to bring Tyler in; he intended Tyler's case to be a distraction to you all, nothing more," Davidson said indicating Wilson as well as the team. "He never planned on getting any kind of help for his son."

"Tell me," House said staring straight at Davidson, "How did Hunter find out when I would be returning to work?" Davidson averted his eyes from House and stared down at the table.

"That would be my fault, Dr. House," Jeanne Hunter said. "I can't tell you how sorry I am, not only for what Malcolm's doing, but for anything I may have said that has helped him with this travesty. I'm the one who mentioned that you wouldn't have use of the hospital lawyers until the financial issues settled down; I'm the one who told him you would be returning to work so much sooner than expected." She started to choke up. "I'm the one who first mentioned to Malcolm that we ought to bring Tyler to you for help. That was a while ago; it was just recently that he got on the bandwagon with the whole idea and said that Jeff could approach you to make arrangements." She looked at Davidson. "Jeff told me what was going on with Malcolm's plan, but dealing with Tyler just takes so much out of me, I don't think straight half the time." Davidson put his arm around her as she began to cry. "Dr. House, I am so, so sorry…I…"

"Stop apologizing to me," House said curtly. "The only person you should be apologizing to is yourself for being moronic enough to marry the bastard in the first place." With the exception of Jeanne and Davidson, everyone in the room shot House a look, especially Lydia. House realized he probably offended Mrs. Hunter and that Wilson and his team thought him to be a total ass, as usual; he really didn't care. It was Lydia's piercing look that made him start to walk away from the table. "Let's figure out how to handle the different parts of this boondoggle and then we can take a break," he said a bit more gently than he had spoken earlier. "We can talk about your son again after that; try and make you understand what's happening with him and what your options are." Jeanne nodded as she wiped her eyes.

"First," said House as he began to pace, "when Hunter shows his face around here, don't let him know about the Angelman's; he'll think we have some sort of proof that he lied about his kid's injuries and he may panic and pull his son out of here sooner. As much as he thinks that the kid is a distraction for us, we can turn it around and keep him wondering just how far we've gotten and when are we going to call his bluff on the phony medical report."

"I won't let him take Tyler out of here; I'm going to go to court and get an order of protection or whatever it takes to keep Malcolm away from Tyler," Jeanne said.

"That's all wonderful, but you can't do anything until we know we have everything in place to put him in jail." House's last remark hung in the air. Taub and Thirteen just stared at him as Foreman repeatedly cleared his throat. "Anyone got a problem with that? Because that's the only way we're going to able to stop him from filing the lawsuits. Unless your brother-in-law is willing to 'forget' to file them on Friday and buy us some more time." Davidson, who had been taking a sip of coffee, swallowed quickly and put the cup down.

"Friday is the day Tom will file paperwork stating the intention of filing suit. There's a forty-eight hour waiting period before the actual suit can then be filed, not including weekends. So Tuesday would be the day that suits would become a matter of record in the courts. Right now, Tom has got to file the documents with the court on Friday; Malcolm will be looking for the appropriate paperwork that would go with the intentions filing and Tom has to keep working for Malcolm for the next three weeks until his contract runs out."

"If it's a job he needs, tell him I just may be needing a lawyer who knows how to handle Hunter. One lawyer for three weeks, I can afford," noted House.

"It's not the money, it's the medical insurance. Tom's wife is expecting and there are some complications with the pregnancy...Rh incompatibility, I believe?" Davidson said. "He needs that medical insurance he gets through Malcolm."

"Excuse me," Chase said, "I know this is completely off-topic, but…why do you always call Hunter by his first name? You two certainly aren't best friends or anything like that."

"Yeah, I've been wondering about that, too," admitted Thirteen. Davidson closed his eyes and placed his hands palms down on the table.

"My daughter's name was Hunter. And I refuse to allow someone who has that much hatred, that much malice, that much…evil in them to have the privilege of being called by my angel's name." He took several very audible breaths as he tried to compose himself. No one in the room spoke.

"Everyone take note," House said breaking the silence, "that from this point on, he-who-does-not-deserve-an-angel's-name, is to be called Malcolm." He lifted his coffee mug up in a toast.

"Hear, hear," said Wilson raising up his cup. Foreman, Taub, Chase and Thirteen did likewise.

"Prost," Lydia and House said at the same time. "Two great minds with one thought," House noted. Davidson smiled.

"Thank you, everyone." He looked at House. "Can I assume that you've learned more than a little German over the years from this lady?" Davidson asked indicating Lydia.

"Nah, I absorbed the language long before I met her; I started drinking beer at a young age and through the process of brewmosis, became a native speaker." House's quip broke some of the tension in the room. He reached over the chair he had been sitting in to put his cup back on the table, when he caught sight of Lydia's face; it was so intently deep in thought, it was beautiful. House couldn't help a slip as he spoke.

"Fraulein, what's up?" She looked up at him, startled at the name he used to address her.

"You said that your brother-in-law isn't concerned about the money, just the health insurance," she said speaking to Davidson.

"Yes; he has another job lined up and the health coverage there starts with his first day of work. It's those ten or so days in-between where he'd be without coverage if Malcolm fired him that he's worried about. God forbid if Lynn, his wife, had to go into the hospital, it could wind up costing thousands."

"But he doesn't have to worry. He's covered under COBRA; if an employer offers healthcare coverage to an employee, by law they have to offer the employee the right to purchase continued healthcare at the rate the employer pays, if they are fired or laid off. He would only need coverage for himself and his wife for ten days and they can't refuse her for having a pre-existing condition; it's against the law." House walked over to one of the extra white boards that he had Wilson bring up to the conference room.

"Teacher, doctor, lawyer." House said each one in turn as he wrote them down on the board. He turned and looked at Lydia. "I'm sorry, which one did you say you wanted to be when you grew up?" She shot him a look, clearly embarrassed.

"Lydia?" Jeanne said hesitantly; she wasn't sure if she was remembering Lydia's name correctly. "I didn't catch which one of those you actually were,"

"None of the above, actually," Lydia said chuckling. And for the second time in a short span, she explained her background.

"I would have pegged you as being any one of them," Davidson said, smiling.

"Me, too," added Jeanne. Lydia dropped her head down and House was quite sure she was blushing.

"Thank you," she said.

"Now that we've established Superwoman's secret identity, let's make a list of what we've got," said House. He erased the listing he made of Lydia's "possible careers." Taking the marker, he wrote across the top "The Case Against A**hole." "I figured it would be best to use his real name so we all knew who we were talking about. Let's divide and conquer; I'll put civil on the left," House wrote the word and then drew a line down the middle of the board from top to bottom. "And criminal on the right." House took a step back and looked at the board. "How appropriate," he commented. "OK, start yelling out crimes and misdemeanors, felonies and falsehoods."

"Divorce," Jeanne said. "And endangering the welfare of a child."

"One that should never be given the chance to happen," House said as he listed divorce under 'civil'. "And one that should never, ever happen." He wrote "end. a kid" under 'criminal.'

"Fraud, for forming a corporation without the knowledge or consent of the two other people he listed on the incorporation filing," Davidson said.

"Score another for the right," noted House as he wrote the charge under 'criminal.'

"Fraud again, for the documents he presented to the court in relation to the lawsuit about the car accident," Taub said. House listed that charge with the Roman numeral II after it.

"Coercion, for getting the docs from St. James Hospital to falsify the report by threating to sue them," Foreman called out. Another criminal charge went up on the board.

"Looks like you're the only one being civil," House quipped to Jeanne; she shrugged and smiled in response. Suddenly, an audible gasp was heard in the room. House, who had turned to face the board, turned back to see where the sound came from.

"HIPAA," Lydia said, her eyes opening wide. "If nothing else, each violation of the health privacy act is a felony."

"That's right," said Wilson. "Foreman and I just had to attend a meeting, a refresher course for most of the people there, about HIPAA. The penalties that are laid out under the law are pretty stiff." Foreman nodded in agreement.

"The penalties go up in severity if it can be proven that the violations occurred with the intent of malicious harm or personal gain," he said. "The jail sentence alone can be for up to ten years, per violation and that's just the criminal side of the equation."

"The civil violations are where most of the monetary damage comes in," Wilson added in. "There the fines can go up to fifty-thousand dollars per violation; and each file would be considered a separate violation." He shook his head. "That man is insane."

"No, just cocky enough to think that he wouldn't be caught," House said as he put the cap back on the marker. "He's believing his own PR; Malcolm Hu…" House stopped himself before he said the name of Davidson's daughter. "Malcolm Malcolm; otherwise known as M&M, is this big, bad lawyer dude that always wins, looks good in his thousand dollar suits and has the ladies swooning over his charms," House said wryly.

"Until he gets what he wants and the charm suddenly disappears," Jeanne said.

"Sounds like someone I used to know," Lydia commented. House saw the two women exchange knowing looks and made a mental note to talk to Lydia about it later on.

"So, his own ego's going to do him in," Thirteen said. House had moved over to the windows of the conference room and looked at the gathering clouds up in the sky; the beginning of the storm front the weather service said would be blowing through the area and bringing with it relief from the heat that came on suddenly this past week, was evident. House welcomed the change; the only thing he liked about warm weather was the view of ladies almost wearing their bikinis. The thought of Lydia in a bikini made him smile slightly for a moment. He gazed skyward and regarded the clouds once again; yeah, he was looking forward to the coming storms, however violent the accompanying squalls may be.

"Greg?" House quickly turned, startled at both the sound of Lydia's voice and being addressed that way in the conference room. "Dr. Hadley was talking to you."

"Couldn't have been important if I didn't respond," House said making his way back to the table. Lydia tilted her head to the side and gave him a disapproving look. He caught sight of the admonishment and looked at Thirteen.

"What were you babbling about?"

"I said M&M's ego is going to be his undoing."

"It almost was once before; I wouldn't mind helping it along again."

"Wait a minute, what do you mean 'again'?" questioned Wilson. All eyes were on House as he visibly squirmed.

"Nothing, it's a private matter between me and the pusillanimous troglodyte."

"A private matter? It sure as hell became public once we all got involved," Chase said.

"You want out? Fine. You're all fired," House said loudly. "I can handle this myself."

"Hör doch auf mit dem Scheiss. Du versuchst nur jeden zu vergraulen!" Lydia said the words quietly, in a normal voice, no shouting involved; her tone silenced everyone in the room, her words stunned House: "Stop the bulls**t. You are just trying to push everyone away." The two of them locked eyes for a moment, then House looked away. He pulled out the chair next to Lydia and sat down.

"I hadn't yet started this department," House began, leaning forward onto the table. "I got a phone call from a lawyer who was defending one of several doctors in a lawsuit brought by M&M. The lawyer showed me the paperwork connected with the suit and asked if I would testify in the doctor's defense; from what I saw, the doctor had screwed up. I told him I didn't think he'd want me on the stand, but then I spoke to the doctor directly and I changed my mind." He sat back in the chair.

"For a week I sat in the courtroom and watched as Malcolm took each bit of testimony, each person apart, piece by piece. Then it was my turn. I did what I could to hold him off and then, he asked me to look at a test result that had been submitted as evidence; only it wasn't the same test result that the lawyer who hired me had shown me. I realized that Malcolm had given false information to the court; he was pulling the same bait and switch back then as he did now with the paperwork from St. James Hospital. But he screwed up and gave me the correct paperwork clearing the doctor, which I quickly and gladly pointed out to everyone within earshot. Needless to say, the case was dismissed."

"He must have gotten in a hell of a lot of trouble," Thirteen noted. "How was he allowed to continue practicing law?"

"He wasn't for a while," House said taking a sip of his long forgotten coffee. "His license was suspended for a year and disbarment hearings began; he talked his way out of it by blaming the whole thing on some _shmuck_ of a law clerk he had working for him at the time. The state bar association bought into it and let him get away with the suspension and a small fine." House let out a deep breath. "He swore that he would get me back one of these days." He pushed the chair back, stood up and started to walk to his office.

"House," Wilson said. House stopped walking and turned to look at him. "The doctor that you were testifying for….it wouldn't happened to have been Cuddy, would it?" House nodded and looked at the floor.

"I had just had a meeting with her and some of the board members about forming the department a few weeks before. She remembered me, and rightly so, from when we met at the bookstore back in med school."

"Now it makes sense," Davidson said. "When Malcolm made his comment about you being the one doctor he had never won a judgment on, Dr. Cuddy looked at him and said something to the effect of 'He beat you years ago, why don't you just leave it in the past; he's better as a doctor than you are as a lawyer and a better man than you'll ever be.'" House looked away from everyone at the table.

"Nice to know someone thinks…thought that way," he said referring to Cuddy.

"House, you know, maybe if you had told us about this, we would have better understood why Hun…M&M," Foreman said, "was after you with such intensity." House shot him a look.

"Really? And what difference would that have made? Would it have changed the way we approached diagnosing the kid? Would it have changed the result? No? Then it doesn't matter. I prevented Hunter from screwing up several doctors' lives, not just Cuddy's. But the first thing any of you thought when this case came in was what new way has House found to be an ass," House said. "The only thing that could have happened if I had told you about this, is a temporary change in your opinion of me; and for the record, I don't give a crap what any of you think." House stood in the doorway of his office, his back to the conference room; he had one hand placed on each side of the doorway with his head hanging down.

"For what it's worth, Dr. House, I agree with you." House looked over his shoulder at Jeanne Hunter who had spoken the words. "Maybe it's the perspective I'm looking at this from, but your prior dealings with Malcolm have nothing to do with my son's case. Like you said, it doesn't change what's wrong with him or how you can help him. That being said, I understand why you," she said addressing the team, "want to know what is making my husband go after Dr. House with such a vengeance; it's what you do for a living. You are required to spend your day asking who, what, where, when, why, how and you need to find answers. Truthfully, with all the tension this has caused around here, I'm surprised no one has thrown anything yet."

"The day is young," House commented.

"I'm sure you've gotten your frustrations out many a time by throwing something," Thirteen said to Jeanne.

"No," she said averting her eyes. "I leave outbursts like that to my husband." Lydia, who had started to push her chair back, stopped and looked at Jeanne; sadly, her words were all too familiar. Taub's pager began to buzz as Lydia stood up.

"Dr. Lindeman's team is with Tyler and would like Mrs. M&M and us to join them," he said after looking at his pager. Jeanne smiled at her new moniker.

"OK, let's recap everything so everyone knows what they have to do. You three," House said addressing Taub, Chase and Thirteen, "take the Mrs. to meet Lindeman's team. You're going to have to contact your own lawyer as far as dumping the weasel," he said looking at Jeanne. "As far as the endangerment charge, that's going to be either the hospital or the individual doctor to report it."

"My father is going to be helping with that," Jeanne said. Everyone except Davidson gave her a puzzled look. "My father is a retired family court judge; he lives out in Arizona now, but he's flying in right away after I called him last night at Dr. Hadley's urging. My father and I have been estranged for many years for various reasons; he knew of some of Tyler's problems, but I never told him the extent of them. 'Perfectionist' is one way you could describe my father, so I wasn't sure how he would react to Tyler being handicapped; it seems I severely misjudged him because when I sent him an e-mail and included a video of Tyler, he called me up crying." She looked at Davidson who hugged her. "He's going to be here by the early afternoon, but he has already made some phone calls to CPS; Dr. Hadley initially offered to be the reporting physician, but we can add other names on as the case progresses." House thought for a moment.

"Judge Carmichael; I seem to remember having an encounter with a robed individual by that name." Jeanne smiled.

"You testified before him in an abuse case; the child's father was poisoning him and you figured out the cause of the child's illness. He said he was sorry to hear it was you that Malcolm was making trouble for." House looked around.

"How soon does he think that CPS will get something going?"

"He's pulling every string he can; they should be here this afternoon to interview me and Dr. Hadley and anyone else that might be appropriate to the case. He said with any kind of luck, they might be able to have some legal action started by Friday; whether that will be an order of protection or not remains to be seen." House nodded.

"It seems you've got a handle on things in that area; just don't forget to get yourself a good divorce lawyer," House said.

"I'm going to get the best his money can buy." Everyone either smiled or chuckled. House turned to Davidson.

"Call your brother-in-law; tell him not to worry about medical care for his family based on what we discussed. Let him know about the HIPAA situation, but don't let him panic; I'm sure the DA will be handing out lots of 'don't even have to go to jail, you're free' cards. Try to convince him not to file the paperwork with courts if you can."

"I'll try," Davidson said. "I'll call or text someone here when I find out Tom's take on things. I'm going to go with you to Tyler's room so I can say good-bye to him," he said to Jeanne. Davidson turned to House and extended his hand. House, not one to ever shake hands, took it with less hesitation than he normally would.

"Dr. House, thank you for everything you and your team are doing for Tyler. I hope whatever help I've been able to provide to this point has given you some kind of comfort."

"The only thing that will give me some kind of comfort is to see M&M's ass in a place where he can't hurt anyone again." House glanced at Jeanne as he let go of Davidson's hand. "He's about my age and with everything he's done, a good ninety-nine year sentence should accomplish that. In the meantime…I appreciate what you're doing," he said quickly, not wanting even the slightest trace of sentimentality to linger.

"Thank you, Dr. House," Jeanne said as she and Davidson left the room. House looked at his team.

"I should be joining you in the kid's room in a little bit; I want to be there when Hunter shows up."

"House, watch yourself," Wilson said. "You're telling us not to slip and say the wrong thing to Hunter; don't do or say anything to antagonize him." House opened his eyes wide and let his jaw go slack.

"What makes you think I would do anything like that? Just because I'd like to reach into his chest and put a clamp on his heart?"

"You're assuming he has a heart," Taub said.

"Maybe we ought to call him Tin Man," observed Chase.

"Maybe you ought to go do your jobs," House snapped. Thirteen, Taub and Chase shook their heads as they gathered up their things and headed toward the door.

"Bye, Lydia. Take care. See you later," the three said as they left the room.

"Bye," she replied. "Well, I have to finish making those copies for you, Dr. Foreman, so I'd better go do that." She went into House's office and restarted the printer on his computer.

"You know, I was just wondering; when I meet with Dr. Murphy, do think it would be OK if I mention the HIPAA thing to him?" Foreman asked. "The more I can reassure him that Hunter is going down the more likely it is that he'll be on board and convince the other two to come with him." Wilson nodded.

"Sounds like a good idea," he said.

"No, it's a crappy idea," House said. "Why should we show our hand to anyone who doesn't need to see it? Besides, if he thinks we've got Hunter nailed without them, why would they bother to put their butts on the line?"

"True," Foreman conceded.

"Dr. Foreman, do you want these reports stapled or paper clipped together?" Lydia called out from House's office.

"Stapled would be great," he said walking over to the door of the office. "I appreciate you helping out with this." He looked over his shoulder to where House and Wilson were standing and talking. "Dealing with House is tough. You must like a challenge." She glanced up from the papers she was organizing and stapling into packets.

"I don't look at Greg as a challenge. I see him simply as a man; a man I am in love with," she said smiling. She pushed the stapler down one final time. "Here you are; just take a quick look and make sure I included everything." Foreman flipped through the papers.

"This looks great. Thank you very much."

"No problem. Good luck."

"Thanks," he said as he headed for the conference room. "I've got a few things I need to take care of before I meet with Murphy, so I'm going to deal with them now. I'll let you know where things stand when I'm done with Murphy."

"Talk to you later," Wilson said as Foreman left. He glanced into House's office where Lydia was putting away the parts of the report that she copied back into the manila envelope from House's desk. "You and I both know she's not a happy camper. Go talk to her. I'm going to tell legal about what's going on; they're going to want to speak with you later." Wilson started to walk to the door.

"They may be the only ones still talking to me," House said looking at Lydia.

"Good luck," said Wilson quietly. "Lydia, I'll see you later."

"Oh, James, wait," she said rising from House's desk and coming out of his office. "How did your call with Annie go?" Wilson shyly smiled.

"It went very well." He turned to House. "We'll need to make reservations for four at The Italian Gardens for Monday night. Since I'm going to be tied up in a bunch of meetings, can you handle the call?"

"Yeah, I can do it online. Call me after you talk to legal." House turned away and walked into his office. Lydia looked at Wilson and smiled.

"I'm glad you asked her; she needs someone to convince her that her best friend isn't the only one she can trust and open up to." Wilson looked at Lydia and then glanced at House sitting in his chair, fiddling with his computer to make the dinner reservations.

"Annie isn't the only one who needs to be convinced of that idea," he said taking a deep breath and giving Lydia a skeptical look. Lydia laughed as she shook her head and looked at House.

"Oh, believe me, James; I know it."


	14. Chapter 14

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Fourteen – "Stretching at Intermission"

By: Purpleu

Wilson left the conference room and made his way down the hall; he shook his head as he thought about the consequences of Hunter's actions. The hospital was already on shaky financial ground; the last thing they needed was to be paying out huge fines and having the state medical board, the Attorney General and anyone else who had jurisdiction in the area poking around. Who knows how many problems Cuddy dealt with by sticking them in the back of the closet?

This all couldn't have hit at a worse time, not just for the hospital, but for House. Thank God he had Lydia; but trying to lay the foundation of a relationship with all this nonsense going on, would be a nightmare for anyone never mind the fact that it was House trying to do it. Even for himself, this was lousy turn of events; Wilson was anxious to make sure things went well between him and Annie. He was looking forward to dinner on Monday and glad that Lydia had suggested they make it a double date; Annie would be relaxed and House could be a lot of fun if he allowed himself to just enjoy the moment. Lydia was certainly doing quite a bit to help in that area; Wilson just hoped she had the patience to deal with House when he was being an ass. As he pushed the button to call for the elevator Wilson let out a long sigh….

Lydia was pushing the chairs in around the conference table, gathering up the random pens scattered about and straightening things in general; what she was really doing was killing time until she was ready to talk to House. She hid it well from the others as she was saying goodbye, but she was definitely upset; upset with House for some of the things he said and upset with herself for "yelling" at him in front of his colleagues and his patient's family. Thank God, she did it in German so no one understood her. But what she had said to him was the truth: he was just keeping them all at arms' length rather than let them know he did this nice thing for someone and incurred Hunter's wrath in the process. Whether he was afraid to be judged weak because of what he did or who he did it for, she wasn't sure. Lydia wandered over to the coffee machine, having spied the box of Munchkins; she peeked into the box, pulled out a jelly-filled Munchkin and was just about to pop it into her mouth when House spoke.

"Hey, I told everyone before; those are for the pigeons that grace the ledges of the building. How else is a cripple supposed to get inside without getting pooped on?" Lydia smiled and batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.

"I'm sorry, Dr. House; I didn't get the memo on that subject," she said and proceeded to pop the treat into her mouth. Well, at least the lines of communication were open, House thought.

"So, you're still talking to me? Or is that just because I'm offering the gift of food?" Lydia held her hand up indicating House should wait while she finished chewing the food in her mouth.

"The question should be, are you still talking to me?" she asked once she had swallowed.

"Why wouldn't…"House started to say.

"Because I was wrong to yell at you in front of everyone like that. Those are people whom you have to deal with on a professional level and I could have embarrassed you; at least they couldn't understand what I was saying," Lydia said, rolling her eyes in disgust at herself.

"That's the thing," House said very seriously. "No one understood a single word you said; that and how quietly you yelled made it really cool." He reached out and took her hand.

"It's an old trick that I learned from a nanny that worked for one of the other families I knew; speak very quietly within the earshot of one child. Their natural curiosity will cause them to settle down so that they can hear what you are saying. Then as the other children notice that their friend is quiet and listening to you, they will wonder what they are missing out on and they will become quiet. Eventually, you will have a silent room."

"I'm impressed; the only problem with it, is once the kids figure out the scam, all bets are off. Does it work on your own kids?"

"I've only needed to use it a few times," Lydia said. "Ben and Elise are very well-behaved children. I'm very firm with them as far as certain things are concerned; but I'm not a hard nose. I give into things once in a while, but I think every parent does that." She looked at House questioningly. "I've never shown you their pictures, have I?"

"Nope; I've met your son, but I have no idea what your daughter looks like."

"You met Ben a while ago; would you be able to pull him out in a line up?" House thought for a second.

"Not if my life depended on it." Lydia laughed.

"I didn't think so. I have pictures in my wallet," she said squeezing House's hand. They walked hand-in-hand back into House's office; he sat down on the chaise lounge in the corner, she sat next to him. Lydia reached for her messenger bag which held a small pocketbook. She took out her wallet and removed two pictures that she handed to House. The first one was of a young boy with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes; he was a good looking kid but bore only a slight resemblance to Lydia. The thing was he didn't give the impression of being related to Annie, either; the kid's father was her brother after all. No matter who he took after, the child looking back at House with a missing tooth and a gleam in his eyes looked like he was fun. He switched the pictures and was instantly taken aback; there, was a younger version of Lydia in front of him, from the auburn-reddish hair to the beautiful hazel eyes to the smile that even at this age, looked just like her mother's. House had to do a double take.

"Wow, there's no denying whose kid she is," he said obviously tickled at the resemblance.

"We get comments all of the time. One woman called her my 'mini-me'," Lydia said laughing at the memory. House smiled as he watched her face light up as she spoke about her daughter; he looked again at the picture of her son.

"He looks like the type of kid who knows how to kick butt," House commented. "He's solidly built for…what is he six?"

"Seven." House nodded as he handed the pictures back to Lydia. "Didn't you say he plays sports?"

"They both do; Elise and Ben play soccer and Ben just started lacrosse this past spring." She put the pictures back in her wallet and stood up as she put the wallet into her purse and her purse into the messenger bag. "They love to play sports, they love to play piano, they love monster trucks and both are incredibly bright." She hesitated for a moment. "Unlike their mother who can be stupid and moronic, it would seem." House rolled his head and very quickly stood up.

"I wasn't saying you were stupid or moronic; if I thought that, we wouldn't be standing here right now." Lydia had moved away from him and was leaning against the edge of his desk, her bag on her shoulder. House walked over and stood in front of her. "One of the things that has always…turned me on about you, is how intelligent you are; it may sound weird, but I find it sexy."

"But you still seem to have the idea in your head that I don't think enough of myself to go after whatever I want," Lydia said sparks flying from her eyes. "I know I could be a good doctor or a good teacher or whatever; I have a good enough opinion of myself to do anything I want."

"Except make the decision to leave an abusive marriage while there was nothing holding you back." The sparks that were in Lydia's eyes were very quickly replaced by the beginning of tears. She held them back while everyone was in the conference room; there was no need to restrain herself now.

"Don't knock someone's choices unless you've been in the same position." Normally, Lydia would have attempted to reason with House on a subject where they disagreed; but there was no place for logic in this discussion. The emotions for Lydia were too raw.

"Don't you get it?" House asked becoming agitated that she didn't seem to understand what the problem was. "I can't put myself in your shoes; they don't fit. I'm not criticizing your decision to marry the guy; everyone makes mistakes. It's the reason you stayed that I'm trying to figure out. You realized what he was like before your kids came along; why didn't you make the decision to leave then? Why wait until you had two kids that you had to drag into this? And why did you decide to come back here and find me? What made you think that was a good deci…"

"I couldn't make decisions!" Lydia yelled, dropping her head down and bringing her hands up to the side of her head. "My parents made all my decision for me from the time I was born. I've told you about that, but you don't know how bad it was. Even the day my mother died, that morning she instructed me on what to wear for the day; when I came out my bedroom with something different on, she told me that I didn't love or respect her. She said that maybe if she hadn't miscarried those other children, she'd have a child who knew how to take care of her and she wouldn't be dying. That wasn't the first time she had said something like that to me." She walked over to the chaise lounge and sat down. After taking several deep breaths to compose herself, she began to speak again. "You know what it feels like; even if the things they're saying to you aren't true, even if it's nonsense, it hurts and it frightens you." She looked up at House, who was trying to gauge his own reaction to what Lydia said; he felt sympathy, empathy, pity, love…but above all else, he was still confused.

"How the hell did you make it through school with a four-0 if your parents made all the decisions? They sure as hell weren't sitting next to you in the classroom giving you the answers."

"Of course not; that….that was a different world, the classroom. There, I was allowed to make my own decisions; it was encouraged and I was even allowed to make mistakes. I was expected to always come home with 'A's, so I very rarely screwed up. But in all aspects of my life: clothes, food, friends, they controlled everything; Annie was my one bit of rebellion. I felt a connection with her and I didn't care whether they liked it or not. As it turned out, they did like Annie; it was just that they hadn't picked her to be my friend." Lydia dug out her pocketbook and took some tissues from it. She wasn't crying, but there were a few tears coming down her cheeks and she wanted to wipe them away. House had remained standing by his desk; he now moved over to the lounge and sat down next to Lydia. She turned to look at him and managed a slight smile; she was clearly relieved to be getting all of this out.

"Abuse takes on all forms," House said, speaking intently. "Your parents abused you. You're like one of those kids that gets kidnapped and kept away from everyone for years and years; when they get out, they have a hard time functioning and orienting themselves to society." He looked at Lydia. "But you never seemed to have any problem functioning; you were friendly with everyone and you obviously made some hard decisions about Annie. I take it you were her heath care proxy?" House asked.

"And her power of attorney. I had no alternative but to do those things; I had to take care of her. It may not have been hands on care, but I had to make sure her needs were attended to," Lydia said. She hesitated, and then a torrent of words came from her. "Do you know, the first time I went grocery shopping after my mother died and I had no one telling me what to buy, I had a panic attack? I stood in the middle of the store, after going up and down all the isles numerous times and my cart was still empty. I had put things in, I had taken them out. I finally just left the shopping basket, ran out of the store and called Annie. She came and calmed me down; she went into the store and helped to pick out a few things. I was able to go back a few days later by myself. I slowly learned how to make choices about all sorts of things; most importantly I learned that if I took the wrong option, it wasn't a tragedy." Lydia took a deep breath. "Then Annie was attacked and I felt my whole world fall apart; I had no choice but to knuckle down and make decisions that would help her. And just when I began to get my confidence back up…."

"Your ex came along." Lydia nodded and began to sniffle.

"I hate Malcolm Hunter so much right now," she said. "You said you were going to take the week off so we could have time together, but I knew things were probably not going to work that way; you were going to have a case that you had to get involved in, but I hoped that at least you'd have some time to come home and relax and maybe we could talk and I could explain things to you," she said in one long breath. "There is still so much I need and want to tell you. And I want you to tell me what me what you've held back for too long." Lydia put her head down. "And because of that bastard this is all coming out at the wrong time and place." House reached over and took her hand.

"You've got some time before you have to leave for your interviews; start talking." She looked at House with confusion.

"But, you're expecting Hunter to come by; and you said you wanted to see Tyler and you have to meet…"

"Look are you sure you want to talk?" House asked as he looked at his watch. "'Cause you just wasted eighteen seconds telling me what I should be doing instead of sitting and talking to you. Remember that priority list we talked about and how the ranking order could sometimes change?" Lydia nodded. "Well right now you are number one with me. I suppose it should be Hunter in the top spot so that I don't wind up a three time loser…well, two and half time loser would be more accurate." Lydia was confused, then realized what House was referring to.

"You mean the fact that the women in your life walked out on you when you needed them the most." House made a face.

"Well, Cuddy was just a delusion I was having in the coma; that's why she only gets a half star rating. Stacy….Stacy I pushed away, made it impossible for her to stay here and take what I'd become. You…" He looked at Lydia. "I haven't had a hell of a lot of experience with the concept of dating and making a relationship work. I dated a few girls in college for a few weeks at a time; then came Stacy. I told you, I asked her to move in with me five days after we met."

"Why did you move things so quickly? Were you that…head over heels in love with her?"

"Nah, I had more room in my closet than she had in hers. Besides, I figured it made things easier if we didn't work out; if she wanted to break things off, it was, 'There's the door, don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out.' If I wanted to break things off…"

"It was, 'There's the door, don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out,'" Lydia said mimicking House's intonation.

"See," House said smiling, "That's why I have such faith in our relationship; great minds think alike." Lydia gave him a look. "Sprechen, Fraulein." She laughed and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling.

"Fine; I'll say what I want to say for now, and at a later date we can discuss things." She began twisting the tissue in her hand. "My ex, after a few months of being married, turned nasty. He knew I was hoping that Annie seeing us together would trigger something to bring her out of the catatonic state; he had no such faith. He knew I wasn't going to leave him; that I was going to keep attempting to use our 'marriage' to try and wake Annie up. He used to say I was 'stupid' for marrying him and 'moronic' for thinking that it would ever help Annie. He used those words all the time…even…in bed." Lydia looked away from House. "I know you use those words as a regular part of your vocabulary: to your team, about the patient, about the kid behind the counter at the local fast food restaurant. I heard you use them at Mayfield; but when you used them here, in relation to Mrs. Hunter marrying Malcolm, I felt like you were talking about me, too. I felt that whatever opinion you held about her, you thought it of me. At that point, you reminded me of my ex and you are the farthest thing from him in every possible way." She stopped to wipe her eyes and House took the opportunity to jump into the conversation.

"I have very little tolerance for what I see as abject stupidity, whether it comes from a lack of knowledge or a lack of brain power, doesn't matter. When it's from a person that I know to be more intelligent than their words or actions would indicate, it makes me insane." He looked at Lydia. "It has been driving me crazy trying to figure out why a woman as smart, as beautiful, as fun and as loving as you are wouldn't leave that kind of treatment; now…I can sort of understand," House said as he put his arm around Lydia. She went to lean in to him, when she noticed someone pass by in the hallway.

"Greg, people can see into your office," she said pulling back a bit.

"Yeah, that's what usually happens when you have glass for walls," he said glancing over his shoulder. House pulled Lydia back closer to him. "I'm not hiding you from anyone; well, from one person, yeah, but…"

"Who?" she asked, surprised. House studied his cane for a moment and then looked at Lydia.

"Hunter," said House. "I don't trust that SOB any more than I think I could win a one-legged kickboxing match." Despite the seriousness of what House was saying, Lydia couldn't help laughing at the way he said it. House managed a little smile as he watched her reaction; he took great pleasure in making Lydia smile. But he was very serious about Hunter. "He is ruthless and completely without a conscience; if he knew about you and could find a way, I wouldn't put it past him to try and hurt you. If that happened…" House got a very intense, fierce look in his eyes. Lydia reached over and took his hand.

"That's not going to happen," she said. House let out a sigh.

"I hope not." It took a moment, but he realized that Lydia was staring at him. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Now I know why you kept asking why I stayed with my ex; I was a mystery you couldn't comprehend and that's what was driving you crazy," said Lydia.

"All women are mysteries to men," answered House. "But, in your case, I was just trying to figure you out in self-defense; if you're going to keep hanging around me I might as well protect myself from as many missteps as I can." Lydia smiled and snuggled next to House; she tilted her head and placed a gentle kiss on his neck and then another and another. "Um…as much as I really like what you're doing, there is, as you pointed out, only one opaque wall to my office; I don't think anyone around here is ready for a lecture and demonstration of human sexuality, especially presented by an expert like me." Lydia looked at him.

"Oh, so you're an expert," she commented, a slight teasing tone to her words.

"You have any complaints?" House asked. Lydia shook her head.

"None," she said as she closed her eyes and put her head on House's shoulder. "You do realize that if it weren't for Hunter we could be at home, lying in bed naked next to each other?" House formed a huge grin on his face. "I see you like that idea," Lydia observed.

"Of course," he said. "I'd be a fool not to; it's the idea that you keep calling my place 'home' that I like, too."

"I feel at home there," Lydia said as she shrugged. "It's not that your apartment is just where you sleep at night; everything about it says you, from the piano and guitar to the books on your shelves." She gestured at the things in House's office. "Here, too, it's the same thing. If someone had shown me a picture of this, I would have known it was yours." She looked at House. "I'm not going to lie to you; when my kids get here, it will be your home and my home. But the word 'home' will always enter into it."

"I'm glad you said that; because if you were to say, 'OK, we're going to House's House,' people might suspect that you have a speech problem of some sort. Now, going back to that idea of lying in bed naked; you do know that we would be doing far less talking, don't you?"

"We do lots of talking when we're in bed; it's one of the many things I really like. I like it a lot more than just rolling over and going to sleep, which is all I ever knew." Reminding himself of Lydia's extremely narrow band of experience, House felt it would be best if he said something.

"Come here, my naïve little vixen," House said pulling Lydia in even closer than before. "I'll give you a heads up on something: most guys' M.O., is to do something like that; maybe not immediately, but after hearing how he rocked her world, most guys fall asleep."

"And if he didn't rock her world?" Lydia asked, thinking of herself in the past.

"Then he falls asleep even faster." Lydia bent in half and covered her hand with her mouth to prevent her laughter from echoing throughout the office; the truth of House's words hit a chord with her.

"It really is sad how well I used to relate," she noted. "At least you always stay awake for a good long while."

"I only fall asleep because you wear me out. You are younger than me, you know; and you certainly don't lack for enthusiasm." Lydia smiled shyly and glanced at House out of the corner of her eye. His face looked so much more relaxed than it did a little while ago; she always thought he was a good-looking man, but when he was in a good mood….she melted.

"Do I have a zit in the middle of my nose, or something? Because you're staring at me again," House said.

"I just like seeing you a little less upset than you were before. Not that I blame you one bit for your reaction to what Hunter's doing. Had Hunter been practicing for a while when you two butted heads?" Lydia asked.

"A little over a year. It was his first major case for the firm he had been working for. Needless to say, they canned him immediately. It almost ruined him…put him a cardboard box, as it were."

"But you didn't go after him deliberately. It's not like you said 'I'm going to ruin this man's life.' You saw there was a problem with the evidence he was presenting, that it was a lie and you pointed it out. You were doing it to protect the client you were testifying for." House sighed.

"Well, one, I didn't point it out very quietly. There were more subtle ways I could have done it; and two, it was Cuddy I was testifying for. Maybe I was a little overenthusiastic at pointing out where Hunter was wrong." Lydia pulled back at little and looked at House.

"Greg, you didn't lie to get Dr. Cuddy out of trouble, did you?" House gave her a look.

"I was in lust, I wasn't insane. No, I did not lie. I saw that Hunter was lying and he knew that I had figured him out. If looks could kill, I wouldn't be talking to you right now." He turned to say something and saw that Lydia had a funny look on her face. "You're wondering just how Cuddy showed her undying gratitude to me, aren't you. I've told you already: we had a one night stand back in our 'win one for the gipper' days. Other than an occasional kiss or grope and the few times we had to give each other IM injections in the ass for various reasons, nothing happened." Lydia looked down and to her right, away from House; she took a moment before she began speaking.

"You and I are both dealing with insecurities about each other's past and we're doing it needlessly, but I guess that it's part of human nature to question things." She turned to look at him as she took his hand. "You're going to ask 'Am I just the lesser of two evils?' and I am going to wonder if I'm really the greatest of three goods; and yes, I'm including Dr. Cuddy in there, because sometimes the possibilities of an unfulfilled love have the most powerful draw of all." Lydia wasn't sure of the expression House had on his face, what he was thinking; but she came this far, she figured she might as well finish her thoughts.

"I believe that the only thing that will lessen the uncertainty we both feel is the passage of time. And we are starting out in the best possible place: we were friends first." House's expression changed to a questioning look. "I know; we had a passionate ending there and a lust-filled beginning here. But before all that, we did nothing but sit and talk and listen to each other. As much as we learned a lot about each other back then, we've got even more to discover now and in the future. The best thing to do, is to take each day as it comes." Lydia smiled as she said her last words, seeing a look in House's eyes that she had seen so much of in the past few days: respect and love. It always made her feel wonderful.

"You know, if all the women I ever met had the attitude you do, I'd be dealing with a white picket fence and about twenty kids right now," he said squeezing her hand.

"Twenty?" House gave Lydia a sly smile.

"Come on, you know how much I love to do the deed." Lydia giggled and buried her head into his shoulder.

"Yes, I do," she said as she moved her head up until their lips met. House was intently cursing out the architect who designed the hospital at that moment; he knew it was getting close to the time when Lydia would have to leave for her interviews, but a little private make out time would be nice right now and glass walls were not conducive to that activity.

"I love you," Lydia said quietly as she stroked House's cheek.

"You don't have to whisper," House said. "These may not be sound-proof walls, but you'd have to really shout, I LOVE YOU TOO," he yelled at the top of his lungs, "for people to hear you. See?" House turned and indicated the people who were passing by in the hall and had stopped to see what the shouting was all about. Lydia sat with her head in her hands.

"Now I know why I have a slight edge over the other ladies who were once a part of your life; I'm willing to sit here and take that kind of behavior while they would have shaken their heads and walked away."

"You're catchin' on," House said smiling. "I hate to be the death of a party, but it's getting close to the time when we're going to have to part company so you can prove to everyone that you'll have the kids at their school playing Moonlight Sonata before the year is over. You might want to visit the little girl's room before you go; you look a bit disheveled."

"And whose fault is that?" Lydia asked indignantly.

"Yours, of course. For being so sexy." House stood up and offered Lydia his hand. She took it and rose from the chaise lounge; House reached up and stroked the back of her head. "I love you so damn much it scares me; I'm not used to the feelings that go with it…or the responsibilities. I've never been responsible for anyone but me and I've sucked at that." Lydia laughed as she put her arms around him.

"But, Stacy…"she began.

"Stacy was a lawyer and a good one; she could have bought and sold me at the point we met. But as far as emotional responsibility…that's where I really bite the big one," House admitted.

"Mistakes are OK, if you learn from them," Lydia said. "And I am sure, back at school, you were a very good student."

"Only because I was usually smarter than the teachers." Lydia leaned forward and gave House a long kiss.

"I give up," she said as she pulled away. "Now, where is the ladies' room?"

"Come on, I'll walk you down the hall to the facilities; then you can escape down the back stairs," House said making his way to the door. Lydia looked at him curiously.

"What's wrong with the elevator?" House hung his head down.

"I find most people's paranoia comes from irrational fears." He picked his head up and looked at Lydia. "Fear of Malcolm Hunter is not irrational. I was very serious when I said if he knew you were part of my life, he'd find a way to go after you. I know he could be here any time in the next hour, but … I would just feel better if you avoided any chance of running into him." Lydia saw the concern in House's eyes; this wasn't the way House would normally react to things, so she decided not to argue.

"That's fine; I'll just take my bag with me." She gathered up her pocketbook and messenger bag and joined House over at the door. "Lead on." House started down the hallway and after a few steps, reached over to take Lydia's hand. They walked side by side, passing some staff members along the way, most of whom said "Hello" or "Good Morning". Lydia responded to their greetings; House either ignored them or simply nodded his head. She sensed that something unusual was going on.

"Do that many people typically say something to you as you walk through the halls?" she asked. "Because I noticed that they were turning around and looking at us after they had passed by."

"Nope; they normally act like I'm not here; that's because I typically treat them that way. I think I'm getting noticed because of the beautiful woman at my side." They had arrived at the ladies' room.

"Your throne room, my lady," House said elaborately gesturing with his hand and bending slightly from the waist.

"Thank you, kind sir," Lydia replied with a mock curtsey. "I'll be out in a minute." She entered the rest room and left House standing in the hall. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes; he knew Lydia really hated Hunter right now, but House didn't mind the monkey wrench that was being thrown into things, as long as it all came to a satisfactory ending. If it weren't for M&M, he would be so much happier than he was right now; and he wasn't sure he could handle that much happiness all at once. It seemed to House, that he disagreed with Charles Schultz, the creator of the "Peanuts" comic strip; happiness was not a warm puppy. Nor was it a warm gun as John Lennon seemed to think. Happiness, House thought, was more like a string bikini; as much as it is a great idea on its own, it's going to fit different people in different ways. On some it will look fantastic; on some it won't work no matter what adjustments you make. As far as House was concerned, he was the sit-by-the-pool-with-a-cool-drink-and-watch-the-passers-by-fixing-their-straps kind of guy. He was warming up to the idea of at least putting on a pair of board shorts.

"You are the Dancing Queen, young and sweet only seventeen," his cell phone suddenly blared at him; what was going on that Wilson was calling him already.

"You're lucky you called when you did; a few minutes earlier and you would have caught Lydia and I in the throes of passion," House told Wilson.

"House, your office has glass walls and Lydia is too much of a class act to do something in public like that," Wilson answered.

"Look, I didn't want to make you jealous or anything, but she's really a wild woman. I'm serious; she's in the ladies room right now trying to pull herself together. Wait, I'll prove it." House pushed open the door to the rest room. "Fraulein, where are you right now?"

"The ladies' room," she replied hesitantly.

"And why are you in the ladies' room?" House asked.

"For the usual reason and to fix myself up so I look presentable at my interview."

"And where were you when you became unpresentable looking?"

"In your office, on the chaise lounge; Greg, why…"

"No more questions, witness is dismissed." House let the door close. "Believe me now?" he said into the phone. There was silence for a moment.

"What do you think the odds are that Annie is anything like Lydia?"

"I don't know; look how much alike we are." House heard a long sigh from the other end of the phone.

"Why do I even let you drag me into these conversations?" Wilson asked. "Look, I need you down in legal as soon as you can get here." House's playful mood quickly disappeared.

"What's happening? Tell me he's already done the filing."

"No," Wilson said. "At least not that I'm aware of. Cheryl Cooke was just caught with an armful of file folders that she did not have authorization to remove from the medical records storage room; and they all relate to you. I quickly pulled Jen Crawford, head of medical records, and Mark Heller, head of legal into a conference room and filled them in on what we knew. Davidson and Mrs. Hunter are coming down here shortly; Lindeman's team is almost finished with an initial evaluation on Tyler. They are allowing Ms. Cooke a phone call to her lawyer, but making sure it's not Hunter." House leaned against the wall; this new development was a huge plus for their side. He heard the bathroom door open behind him and greeted Lydia with a smile.

"What was that all about?" she asked, referring to the grilling House gave her a few minutes ago. He put his hand over the mouthpiece.

"I'll explain later," he whispered. She gave him a skeptical look. Taking his hand away from the phone, he continued to speak to Wilson. "I'm at the end of the hallway by my office; let me get to a more private place where we can talk." He indicated with a nod of his head that Lydia should follow him. He quickly looked around and spotted the door leading to the back stairway on the north side of the hospital. "Hold on a sec," House said as he led Lydia into the stairwell. He quickly filled her in on what Wilson had told him so far; her eyes opened wide with delight. "OK, I'm in the stairwell which should be safe; people would rather pay money to a gym than use facilities that are readily available to them." House indicated that Lydia should move closer; he didn't want to use the speaker. "I've got Lydia listening in. What's next?"

"I haven't told you the best part yet," Wilson said. "As it turns out, the DA has had its eye on Hunter; it seems that he's been going after doctors at other hospitals in the county with the same kind of set-up he's planning on using against you. They were probably all just practice runs to make sure the system would work. Someone in the DA's office noticed all the activity and very quietly started an investigation. What we have here, puts their case over the top; and you'll never guess who the ADA is who's leading the investigation." House thought for a moment.

"Atticus Finch?" he said, naming the character from "To Kill a Mockingbird."

"House, the ADA is Kyle James, the husband of your patient that you worked with on Monday." House's eyes darted back and forth.

"The diabetic whose list of ailments takes up half the Merck's Manual? I never would have pegged her hubby for a dirt bag."

"He's an Assistant District Attorney and he's speaking with legal right now. They were aware of the fact that his wife was in here because he and Heller are friends. When James heard that Hunter was coming after you and big time, he went ballistic; I think he wants to nail Hunter even more than we do."

"I somehow doubt that," House said. Wilson laughed.

"No matter what, this is a fabulous turn of events. Get down to legal as soon as you can; they need to go over some things."

"Yeah; as soon as I say goodbye to Lydia."

"Great; good luck, Lydia," Wilson said.

"Thank you, James. I'll see you later."

"Be down in a minute," House said and he ended the call. He looked at Lydia who had a huge smile on her face.

"Greg, this wonderful!" she exclaimed as she hugged him.

"It's far from over," House said cautiously. "If they don't throw his ass in jail before he gets a chance to file those documents, I'm still screwed. The judge may look at everything and say M&M's a dick and throw the whole thing out; or they could say their hands are bound by the law and they have to let things proceed. I won't be satisfied until this is all finished." Lydia looked at House sympathetically.

"It's almost over," she said. "Just another few days and M&M will get his shell broken." House laughed at Lydia's analogy.

"Come here." He pulled her in for a kiss which he repeated multiple times. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," she said giving him a tight hug. She pulled back and looked at her watch. "I have to go," she said sadly.

"I know." House looked down at the stairs and made a face. "It's going to take me forever to get down those; I'll say goodbye here." He looked at her standing there, looking so beautiful and professional all at the same time. "Hey, they aren't going to keep me here forever; I should get out at a decent hour and it seems to me I haven't actually taken you out on a date yet. I don't know about you, but I don't count take out from a sports bar and pizza as real dates." House tilted his head to the side. "Do you like hibachi cooking?"

"I like a lot of different cuisines; when I traveled around, I always managed to find something that I liked."

"Good. There's a really good place about twenty minutes away; it will be the perfect setting for me to tell you the story of how I decided to become a doctor." Lydia smiled.

"I would love to hear about that." She looked at her watch again. "Well, I'll text you when both interviews are done, probably around three." She gave House a kiss and moved to the stairs.

"Sounds good; hopefully by then I'll know if I can still afford to take you out or if it's Spam by the highway." Lydia scowled at House.

"You are not going to have to worry about a place to live," she said as she made her way down the steps. "I'm going to have lots of empty moving cartons; I'll save you a few." She started giggling as she scampered down the steps.

"Hey," House said as he leaned over the railing. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"But, you already fit the part: the unshaven face, the cane. You're the perfect little tramp." She continued down a few more steps then paused to look up at him. "Only you're cuter. Ich liebe dich."

"Ich liebe dich auch," House replied. He heard the sound of the door open, and then close below. Standing there for a moment and thinking, he came to a very important realization; despite the fact that PYT, aka Cheryl Cooke reminded him of a younger version of Cuddy with her tight skirt and low cut blouse, there was one undisputable fact: no one could ever have the package put together the way Lydia does. He began to twirl his cane in the same manner Charlie Chaplin would, then grabbed the straight end of it, and brought it near his mouth like a microphone.

"Ain't no woman like the one I got," he sang out in a loud voice and grooved on the melody floating through his head as he reached for the door; time to go find Wilson.


	15. Chapter 15

Puppet Master

Chapter Fifteen-"Bringing Down the House"

By: Purpleu

House walked quickly down the hall and passed his office on his way to the elevators; there was a definite jaunt to his step as The Four Tops continued to play in his mind. "Ain't no woman like the one I got." That, House thought as he pushed the call button, is a fact. Lydia obviously has a lot of issues going back to her childhood; then again, so did he. There were more tears to come, for sure; but also much more joy in finally having someone who was willing to listen and understand. With Lydia in his life, House was starting to feel like he could deal with anything; well, almost anything.

The elevator doors slid open and several people exited the car. House stepped back to let them pass. He turned to enter the car….and came face to face with Malcolm Hunter. All pleasant thoughts provided by Lydia were quickly dispersed and replaced by a twisted feeling in House's stomach. Hunter seemed surprised to see House, but he regained his air of superiority within a split second. House had locked eyes with him from the moment the occupants of the elevator had left; now neither one was willing to blink.

"Dr. House, whatever are you doing here?" Hunter asked sarcastically.

"I work here; this is a hospital, I'm a doctor." House said overemphasizing each statement. He broke eye contact and reached in front of Hunter to push the button marked "two." "The question would be, what are you doing here? More specifically, on the fourth floor."

"I had asked that two be pushed, but I guess no one heard me."

"Either that or they ignored you. So… which ambulance did you chase over here?"

"My son is your patient," Hunter said in a very measured tone. "If you had been attentive to his case at all, you'd be aware of that; or is your judgment and memory still somewhat clouded from the brain injury you received in the crane collapse?" House pursed his lips and looked away from Malcolm.

"I didn't receive any brain injuries from the accident," House said in a terse tone. "But thanks for asking." House's cell began to vibrate; he knew it couldn't be Lydia, but decided to look at it any way. He saw the message and started to dial a number.

"This'll just take a sec," House said to Hunter. "Yeah. Sounds good. I'll meet you there." House pushed a button and slipped the device into his pocket. "Lunch date," he said pretending to be embarrassed.

"I assumed from the fact that you were in a coma for a while, that some kind of brain damage had occurred during the accident." An uncharacteristic slip.

"Mr. Hunter, I am surprised," House said. "As a lawyer, I would think that you would know better than to assume." Hunter recovered quickly.

"I had it from a very reliable source that your injuries were of a rather serious nature; of course, not as bad as Dr. Cuddy's." The elevator arrived at the second floor and the two men exited the car. They began walking in the direction of Tyler's room. "You know, it really was shame that no one could have stopped her from climbing underneath all that rubble. That whole tragedy would have been averted." House knew Hunter was trying to rattle him, and he was doing a good job; but the fact that House knew the "reliable source" was either Mrs. Hunter or Davidson, reassured him that there wasn't some unknown mole lurking about and kept him focused.

"Afraid your sources didn't get the whole story; the coma was medically induced to allow for ease of healing." House turned to look at Hunter. "I'm just the way I've always been." While there was no change in expression on Hunter's face, House saw the muscles in his neck tighten ever so slightly.

"I'll keep that in mind." The elevator doors opened and the two men exited the car. They walked several feet in an awkward silence. "So, what progress have you made with my son's case? Have you confirmed the diagnosis of the doctors from St. James Hospital?" House stopped walking and looked down at the floor. Hunter had continued walking, unaware that House had stopped. He backtracked until he was standing opposite House.

"Something wrong, Dr. House?" Hunter asked.

"You and I both know that is total BS, a lie, to blame your son's problems on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder; the only way you could use that diagnosis is if you told the kid you were taking away his water bottle permanently." House picked his head up and looked at Hunter. He could see that the lawyer's eyes had narrowed and his brows were knit together is a scowl.

"So…what do you blame my son's problems on?"

"Any number of things; we've had some abnormal test results and your son had a seizure yesterday. At first it surprised my team and me, but then we realized that no one bothered to tell us about his medication." At the mention of medication, Hunter's demeanor quickly changed.

"I don't know anything about any medication that Tyler has been given. I'm at work most of the time. You would have to ask Mrs. Hunter about that," he said sharply.

"Funny, wifey says we should check with you." House smiled and began to pace slightly. "Oh, I can see this is going to be good; he said, she said. Who's telling the truth? The absentee dad or the mom who is with him twenty-four/seven with hardly any breaks?" House pointed down the hall to Tyler's room. "I know who I'd vote for."

"My wife is extremely stressed out; she does not handle our son well at all. If I did have the opportunity to spend more time with him, I wouldn't mollycoddle that boy so much. He needs to be told no and made to listen; there's nothing wrong with him that a good firm hand couldn't solve." House looked puzzled and walked back over to Hunter.

"I'm sorry, I'm a little confused; are you saying your son doesn't have PTSD? Because if that's the case, I know a few lawyers that represented the docs over at St. James, who'd like a do-over in court." Hunter became flustered at House's insinuation of lying.

"Of course he has PTSD. I'm saying his mother's handling of him is not helpful to the situation." He started to walk away, stopped and turned to look at House.

"You know, Dr. House, I find this very odd; this is the second time where we have encountered each other and you are so quick to don the cape and fight for truth and justice. The first time, I could see that the prize of Dr. Cuddy owing you something could come in handy both personally and professionally; but what is the reward here?" Hunter asked with a questioning look on his face.

"The satisfaction of having my head hit the pillow each night with a clear conscience; something you would neither know nor care anything about." House walked rapidly past Malcolm and on down the hall to Tyler's room.

"Dr. House," Hunter called out in an annoyed voice, as he walked quickly to catch up to House, "you still haven't given me any details about my son's case. What do you know about my son's condition?" Wouldn't you like to know, thought House as he arrived at Tyler's room; just as he reached for the door, it slid open and a young woman stepped out.

"Oh, hello, Dr. House; I'm Susan Lewis from Dr. Lindeman's office." She nodded at both House and Hunter. "I just did an initial evaluation on your patient and spoke to his mother about the child's history. My job is to get an overall view of where the boy stands and what his needs are; I'll be sending in specialists in each of the areas that have been determined to be displaying need and allow the people proficient in those areas to make recommendations for treatment." Her crisp, professional manner of speaking wasn't going to give anyone a case of the warm fuzzies, but she clearly knew her job and did it well. That wasn't going to satisfy Hunter.

"Miss…Lewis?" Hunter asked searching her white lab coat for and ID badge.

"Mrs. Lewis," she corrected.

"Mrs. Lewis, I'm sorry," he said turning on the charm. "I am Malcolm Hunter, the boy's father; I am desperate to get some information on my son. Communication around here," he said as he glanced at House, "is severely lacking. What is my son's condition?" House made no effort to hide his disdain for Hunter's performance; neither did Susan Lewis.

"Mr. Hunter, I am not a doctor," she said straightening her collar, which flipped her ID tag around so it could be read. "I would have identified myself as one if I was. I have no knowledge as to the fine details of your son's condition; however, Dr. House, his team and your wife all know the current state of the case; I would suggest you ask them." She turned to House. "Someone from my office will contact your team. Goodbye," Susan Lewis said acknowledging both men; she turned and walked briskly away. Hunter was clearly not expecting to be shut down so proficiently; House made a mental note not to cut in front of her on the cafeteria line the next time he saw her there, which was never.

"Well, shall we go visit your little tyke?" House asked as he stepped into Tyler's room; he quickly surveyed the scene when he entered and was glad to see that Davidson was not there. The fewer potentially loose lips, the better. Hunter entered right behind House.

"Jeanne," he said curtly to his wife.

"Malcolm," she answered in a flat tone. Hunter glanced to his left and saw House's team standing there; he barely acknowledged them with a nod.

"Dr. House has been more than a bit reluctant to give any concrete details as to what is happening with Tyler." He looked around the room at his wife and the team. "I don't suppose any one would like to fill me in?" Wilson slid the door to the room open and stepped in as Hunter was speaking; he and House exchanged looks.

"Well, Mr. Hunter, I think Dr. House's reluctance comes from the fact that the tests we've run so far haven't led to any solid conclusions. Your son's test results show conflicting electrophysiology between the hippocampus and the cerebral cortex," said Foreman.

"In addition," chimed in Chase, "Bi-lateral adhesions presented out of range from where the fracture from the car accident occurred." Chase shook his head. "Very unusual."

"We are planning on running another EEG with auditory stimulation, to see if he responds to sounds in a particular range or decibel level," Foreman said.

"CT scan and MRI would also show slices of the region where involuntary nerve responses lie; It would indicate if the damage is correctable by surgery," concluded Chase.

"Surgery! How did we get to the point of discussing surgery?" raged Hunter.

"Well, if the tests confirm, you would want your son to be treated and healed, wouldn't you?" asked Taub.

"Of course, but…"

"Although it is possible that mere therapy could make a dramatic change in his quality of life," pointed out Thirteen. Hunter began to shake his head back and forth violently.

"No, no therapy," he said emphatically. "That was tried once before and there was no progress."

"None at all, Mr. Hunter?" asked Thirteen.

"In my opinion, no."

"So the therapists…they felt the same way? That there was no hope and they just…gave up?" Wilson asked as he stood leaning against the wall.

"No, I did; I refused to waste another penny. My son needs an attitude adjustment, not babying by his mother."

"So, Mrs. Hunter, you wanted the therapy to continue; you felt there was progress?" asked Taub trying to clarify the situation.

"Yes, I wanted the therapy to continue; Malcolm did not," she said.

"Look," Hunter said. "There will be no surgery, there will be no therapy. I brought my son in here to receive a confirmation of the report that the doctors at St. James Hospital wrote and to keep her," he pointed at Jeanne, "quiet; nothing more. I'm pulling Tyler out of here on Friday morning."

"Friday morning! We won't have been given enough time to do a proper evaluation," Wilson protested. "Most of the tests results will still be pending by then and all the information yet to be gathered." Tyler, who had been sitting on the bed quietly giggling and turning the pages of a pamphlet that Susan Lewis had left behind, now jumped down and started moving in an erratic pattern around the room. Within a few seconds, he brought his arms up and starting flapping his hands as the giggling became more pronounced. House, who had been very quietly listening to the conversations between Hunter and his team, now turned his attention to the child. The boy got down off the bed and started his crazed seagull routine when Hunter's voice became louder. Could the boy be responding to the tone of the conversation or maybe even the words themselves?

"Your reputation as worldwide experts is well-known; I would have thought that after three days you would have an answer. Or maybe there are some problems with this department that need further investigation," Hunter said ominously.

"Malcolm, there is nothing wrong with this department," Jeanne Hunter said. "What is wrong is your obnoxious, arrogant and uncaring attitude toward the care and well-being of your son. You have never wanted to get any help for him, you have stuck your head in the sand over his condition and you have blocked any and all attempts I have made to get Tyler help." Jeanne took a deep breath. "It ends now; I want Tyler to remain in the hospital until an evaluation of him is completed and a course of action and treatment can be made by Dr. House's team. You will not remove Tyler from Dr. House's care." House had to keep from applauding; he had the feeling it was the first time in her life that Jeanne Carmichael Hunter stood up to anyone and in an obtuse sort of way, House understood. Hunter was shocked at his wife's dressing down of him, especially in front of what he considered to be inferior people. House could also relate to that; however, he had no sympathy or empathy.

"Jeanne, I am taking my child out of here on Friday morning; do not attempt to interfere with me," Hunter in a cold, hard voice. Jeanne Hunter rose up from the chair she had been sitting in and although shorter than her husband, stood toe to toe with him.

"I would suggest you don't interfere with the proper proceedings of the court system; I would have thought that you learned your lesson about that a long time ago," she said with a quick sideways glance at House. Hunter looked completely floored; obviously he had never told his wife about his prior encounter with House and was shocked that she knew about it now. He slowly turned and looked at House, who was once again twirling his cane in the manner of Charlie Chaplin, just as he has done earlier in the day.

"You son of a bitch," Hunter began. "You're behind this; you're the one getting my wife to act irrationally."

"Actually, I'd say she was acting quite rationally; wanting to get help for your son, who is obviously ill, is one the sanest things a person could do." Hunter moved forward toward House but almost walked straight into the spinning cane. Hunter pulled back and glared at House.

"You know, Dr. House, you really should be more careful with your cane," he said in a patronizing tone. "With how recklessly you're handling it, someone might accuse you of possessing a deadly weapon." House screwed up his face into an exaggerated expression of thoughtfulness.

"Now who in the world would accuse a crippled guy like me of something so trumped up and ridiculous?" House turned his head and made direct eye contact with Hunter. "Oh, yeah; you would."

"I resent…" Hunter never got to complete his sentence; Tyler, who had been zigzagging randomly around the room, made a beeline for his father and as was his usual routine, head butted his father directly in the groin. Hunter doubled over as Tyler's laughter grew louder.

"You little brat!" Hunter managed to croak out as he raised his hand toward the boy. Jeanne Hunter jumped up and positioned herself between Tyler and her husband.

"Don't you dare raise your hand to our son!" she yelled.

"He needs to learn how to behave!"

"So do you!" shouted House. He had stopped twirling his cane and had squared off to confront Hunter. Wilson, who had moved over next to Foreman on the opposite side of the room, advanced forward slightly as did Chase as they noticed Hunter's aggressive stance and clenched fists; back in the day, there was no doubt House could handle Hunter, but with his bad leg, all bets were off.

"Malcolm! Stop this right now!" Jeanne said as she scooped up Tyler and held him. It was clear he did not want to be held, but after a minute, he settled down, staring out the window. House took note of the fact that the child had rested his head on his mother's shoulder and followed his stare; there, out the window, a summer thunderstorm had released its fury, causing droplets of water to coat the panes of glass. Hunter's intense breathing echoed throughout the room, competing with the sound of the thunder and rain.

"This is not over, Jeanne. We will discuss this in private tomorrow. I have appearances in court and a bar association dinner to attend. This matter will be continued." He ignored the team as he turned to leave the room and found himself face to face with House. The hatred with which the two men regarded each other was felt in the room.

"Dr. House, just an observation: on a day like this," he said glancing at the windows with the rain pouring down, "cardboard becomes very wet, very quickly. And the heat that brings weather like this, hasn't even yet begun." He walked around House to the door, opened it and let it slam after he had walked through. He strode off down the hall to the elevators, clearly agitated; he may have had the last word, but House clearly won the fight.

House, Wilson and the team stood and looked at each other; House glanced over at Jeanne holding Tyler to see if they were OK. He saw that Foreman was ready to speak, but he held up his hand…five, four, three, two, one. House took his cell phone out of his pocket.

"How was that?" he asked. There was silence in the room.

"Perfect, Dr. House," said a voice coming from his cell phone. "We just checked the recording levels and everything came through clear as a bell. We'll see you and Dr. Wilson down here in a few minutes." House ended the call and allowed himself to smile at the team.

"That," House said, "was da bomb." He held his fist up and fist pumped the entire team and Wilson. "Even I believed all that medical BS you were throwing out."

"Thank God, you got the text and call before you got into the room with Hunter," Wilson said.

"I got it as I met up with M&M in the elevator; I was able to answer the text and make the call to open the line without him thinking anything was up."

"Mr. James's idea of leaving your cell open and having them record it was brilliant," Foreman noted. "At least the equipment was already here since they were about to put taps on Cheryl Cooke's phone line. I can't believe they've had their eye on her for a while. All the time Mrs. James was in the hospital, legal and Mr. James had discussed the situation and they knew that a judge had already signed the order for the taps. It just fell into place beautifully."

"And we were able to very quickly discuss with Mr. James what to say to Malcolm and how to 'lead the witness' as it were," said Jeanne. She was still holding Tyler, facing him toward the window. "Honey, I have to put you down; you're getting too heavy for Mommy." She sat down in the chair at the end of Tyler's bed and the boy slid off his mother's lap. While his laughter had only subsided, not stopped, the hand flapping had eased. Tyler rushed to the window, and very carefully, one finger at a time, traced the path of various raindrops. House regarded the boy with great curiosity; it was one thing to know that a fascination with water was a symptom of Angelman's syndrome; it was quite another to understand why. House made a note that he would have to look into it one day.

"Well, we've got him on tape saying a number of juicy things; it will show what a close and endearing friendship M&M and I have, his disregard for his son's illness and proper treatment and that he was ready to strike the boy. If anyone in the gathering crowd of Malcolm-antes weren't on our side to start with, they are now." He glanced over at Jeanne and saw that she was hunched over with her arms wrapped around herself. Thirteen had noticed it too and went over to her; she crouched down and put her arm around Jeanne's shoulders.

"You did a great job, Mrs. Hunter; you caught him completely off guard," Thirteen said. Jeanne reached for a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

"I was just so afraid Malcolm was going to hit Tyler," she said sniffling. "I'd hate myself if I allowed that." Very quickly the team and Wilson all chimed in with various declarations of "We'd stop him; that would never happen," and so forth.

"Mrs. Hunter," House said, "never mess with a son of a bitch cripple who has a deadly weapon." He twirled his cane with a slight twinkle in his eye; his actions didn't only get a reaction from Jeanne, but from her son, too. Tyler had stopped paying attention to the rain falling outside; the storm had lessened and held less of a fascination for him. He was once again roaming around the room, laughing and flapping his hands. House decided to try a little experiment.

"Tyler?" he said. "Can you come here?" House leaned his cane against the wall; he held his arms open wide, palms facing forward, in an open gesture. Tyler continued circling around the room, hesitating each time he neared House, but not approaching him. "Tyler, can you give me a hug?" Wilson and the team gave House a look; they'd dealt with children many times before, never did he make such a request from any of them. The child continued to wander about the room and then for one brief moment, House and Tyler made eye contact. On his next sweep around the room, Tyler ran at House; instead of barreling into his groin, Tyler changed direction. He came at House from his right side and slowed down, as much as he was capable of controlling his movements. The boy tried to put his arms around House's legs while continuing to move his hands about. The most significant occurrence, however was the change in Tyler's laughter; it almost stopped and was replaced a prolonged sound that was steady and low. He stopped making the noise for a moment, then began again.

"What…what is he doing?" asked Jeanne. "He does that noise all the time, but I haven't been able to figure out what it means." House reached down and couldn't help but feel the need to stroke the boy's head; he was both drawn to the Tyler's tenacity for dealing with having Hunter for a father and fascinated by all the exceptions there were to the child's case.

"I think he's trying to talk." Jeanne sat stunned.

"He's never spoken a word in his life," she said. House smiled as Tyler moved away from him and began to explore the room again.

"Yes, he has. Didn't you just tell me that he makes that noise all the time? He needs help to learn a better way of speaking; you need to learn how to listen." Thirteen stood up; she had still been crouched next to Jeanne.

"House do you really think Tyler could learn to communicate?" she asked. House took his cane from where he had left it next to the wall.

"I wouldn't hold out any hope for the Gettysburg Address," he said watching Jeanne's face as she kept an eye on Tyler as he ran around. "But 'Mommy' isn't outside of the realm of possibilities." He turned to Wilson. "I guess I'd better go and face the Spanish Inquisition."

"I'll be heading down in a few minutes as well," Jeanne said. "Thank you for your help, Dr. House." House nodded; he turned to leave, but felt something pull at his leg. He looked down and saw Tyler holding on to him, the clownish grin replaced by what one would call a "normal" smile; for a brief moment, House swore he saw in the child's eyes a glimmer of the "real" boy underneath.

"Tyler, come to Mommy; Dr. House will see you later," Jeanne Hunter said, gently pulling her son back from House. It seemed at first the child was going to raise a fuss, but then quickly settled into his mother's arms.

"I'll be in my office after I answer the same question from five different people five different ways," House said to the team. He left the room and headed to the elevators with Wilson closely behind. "How did you know Hunter was here?" he asked. Wilson smiled.

"I thought to tell security that if they see his limo pull into the driveway, they are to notify me immediately. When they signaled me, Kyle James got the idea to use your cell phone like a wire or a bug. I texted you while he spoke to Mrs. Hunter and the team and…it looks like we pulled it off." House walked beside him silently. "You don't seem very pleased about something. You were OK right after Hunter left and we all fist pumped and everything. What's wrong?"

"I've had time to think," House said. "What happens when a kid uses a slingshot to knock a bee's nest down out of a tree? The kid gets all excited that he did it and gloats; then reality sets in as the swarm of bees comes after him seeking revenge. If he's lucky and can run fast enough, he'll get away with a few dozen stings. Hunter is a giant bee with a harpoon for a stinger; I'm not lucky and I don't run fast." The elevator arrived and they entered it; House was relieved to see it empty.

"House, everyone down in that conference room right now is worried about two things: nailing Hunter and protecting you. I told you, Mr. James went crazy when Foreman and I told him what Hunter was planning; I think if Hunter had been in the room, James would have killed him with his bare hands."

"I know if he laid one hand on his wife or kid, he would have had a room full of people trying to kill him," House noted. Wilson nodded.

"That's for sure. Things were getting a little tense up there; I was sure Hunter was going to take a swing at you, or shove you or something. I was afraid you would swing your cane in self-defense; that would have really complicated things." The door of the car opened and House and Wilson stepped out into the back of the lobby; turning to their left, they made their way through the maze of hallways until they had arrived at the legal department. House recognized many of the faces he saw; he had dealt with almost all of them in the past. He looked through a door on his right; there he saw Cheryl Cooke talking away with two men while one sat next to her, quietly taking notes. House took it that the Silent Bob was her attorney; Laurel and Hardy were from the DA's office. He watched as Cheryl very animatedly waved her hands, nodded her head and pointed with her fore finger on the table for emphasis. You're pointing with the wrong finger, thought House.

"Dr. House." The voice came from his left; he turned to see Kyle James, husband of his patient from Monday and Assistant District Attorney, walking toward him. "Nice to see you again, although I wish it were under different circumstances." James extended his hand; House took it with far less reluctance than he did a few days ago. The shoe was now on the other foot; House was now relying on James for his happiness and peace of mind.

"Don't take this personally," House said, "but I'd rather visit my oral surgeon, my proctologist and my tax accountant all in the same day than be dealing with you right now." Rather than be offended, James laughed heartily.

"No harm, no foul," he said. "Save me the seat next to you; on the one hand I'm thrilled at how far and how quickly we've been able to advance our case against Hunter. On the other hand, I'm sorry you've been dragged into this." House shook his head and let out a sigh.

"I'm afraid I was dragged into this long ago."

"Let's head down to the main conference room," James said gesturing down the hallway to their left. The two men began walking. "Yes, Dr. Wilson and Dr. Foreman told us about your prior history with Hunter; it's a shame he's been able to slip through the cracks on so many occasions. But, we have him on a roster of charges; if we throw enough at him, something's got to stick. If it's any comfort to you, the fact that he used the violations of HIPAA laws with the intent of ruining your medical practice and for revenge, increases the penalties exponentially."

"There's not much that could comfort me right now."

"Not even your girlfriend?" House stopped walking. He wanted as few people as possible to know about Lydia; the less anyone knew of her existence, the less chance there was that Hunter would find out about her. James turned and looked at him.

"How do you know…?"

"Dr. Wilson and Dr. Foreman mentioned that she's the one who thought of the HIPAA tie in; well, that and my wife sort of pegged that you had someone special in your life based on some of the conversations you had with her." House had to smile a bit; if there was one thing to be said about Bonnie James, her powers of observation and deduction were superb.

"I'd rather as few people know about my girlfriend as possible; I'm afraid of the lengths to which Hunter is willing to go to take retribution on her to get to me." James nodded and began walking again.

"I understand where you're coming from on that. Almost anyone in the DA's office at some point has been threatened or had a member of their family threatened; it goes with the territory. I don't believe he would try to do anyone any physical harm; he's a vindictive SOB, but he's shown no history of violence." They arrived at the conference room; if the hospital wanted to save any money, they could cut down on all the extras in this room alone. A wet bar at one end, a coffee bar at the other, rich paneling on the walls, a table so glossy you could use it as a mirror and seats so plush your tush would never want to come out of them. Big bucks, indeed.

"My wife says hello, by the way." Kyle James had interrupted House's thoughts with the mention of his wife.

"How is she feeling?" House asked. It seemed the expected thing to do; plus, there was something he genuinely liked about Bonnie.

"Much better; she's still a bit weak, but PT comes in and works with her; they've even given her some exercises for her Rheumatoid Arthritis. She went out and got some fresh air yesterday; too bad today's such a crappy day," James noted looking out the window at the gray skies. The rain had stopped and a leaden shroud hung over the area.

"How are her bed sores? She's rotating her sleep positions, I hope." House recalled the wounds Bonnie had from remaining in bed for weeks; they were the last things a diabetic on immune-suppressing drugs needed.

"The nurses are great about keeping an eye on her. Almost all the wounds seem to be doing well, except the one on her left hip. That one's being stubborn."

"That was the worst of them," House noted. "I'll have someone from my team stop in there and see what wound care is doing; sometimes these things take time because of all she has working against her, sometimes the experts aren't as expert as they'd like to think they are." Kyle smiled.

"Thank you; Bonnie would be happy to see you or someone from your team. You were the first doctors she felt actually listened to her and treated her as an individual, not an illustration in a textbook."

"It's part of my philosophy: look for zebras." James laughed as a man and a woman approached them.

"Mr. James, we're ready to start taking statements from everyone." House looked around and saw that Davidson and Mrs. Hunter had joined them in the room.

"We're going to break things up into groups to get as much done as we can; depending on what we've got, we might be able to present something to court to at least make an arrest on some charges," James explained. House vehemently shook his head.

"He'll be out on bail in no time and twice as dangerous," he said and started to pace. "If you're going to get in the first punch, make it a good one; because when he gets up off the ground, he will be relentless in his pursuit of anyone who got in his way." James reached out and stopped House from pacing by putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I know exactly where you're coming from," James said looking House straight in the eye, "and I sympathize with your feelings entirely. We'll talk about it in about in a little bit." House put his head down and didn't respond.

"This is the way things are going to happen," James said raising his voice to get the attention of everyone in the room. Wilson, Foreman, Davidson and Mrs. Hunter all gathered around where House and James were standing. "We are going to break up into three groups; one from the DA's office, one from the legal department here at PPTH and one from medical records here at the hospital. Each one of you," he said to House and company, "will speak to each of the three groups. There will a lot of questions repeated, asked in different forms, but if everyone tells the story as it happened, we should get the same answers from all of you. We'll question Dr. House's team members individually after we finish speaking to you. If you want to have a lawyer in the room with you, I'd suggest you start making calls now so we don't hold things up."

"Mr. James, I'm supposed to meet in a few minutes with Dr. Murphy from St. James Hospital. He's one of the doctors who saw Tyler Hunter and was forced into writing the phony report used in court by Hunter to win his lawsuit." Foreman said. House shook his head and let ou

"_Allegedly_ forced into writing the _alleged_ phony report," House said. "If you're going to play with the big boys, you'll have to learn their lingo." House got a bunch of chuckles for his observation.

"Go meet with him; see if you can convince him to at least talk to me off the record. The trial for that happened in New York, so I'll have to contact the Manhattan DA's office with what we discover on that end of things."

"Alright, I'll be back as soon as I can." Foreman left the room to keep his appointment.

"I'd like to go first," House said. "I have an appointment later on that I can't break." Wilson gave House a quizzical look, but quickly realized he must have plans with Lydia.

"Of course," James said. "You can start with my office and then go around. Dr. Wilson, why don't you talk to your medical records department? Mr. Davidson, why don't you deal with the hospital's legal area?"

"Mr. James, may I go back upstairs and stay with my son while I wait my turn?" Jeanne Hunter asked.

"Of course," he answered. "You can come back down with one of Dr. House's team members." Everyone adjourned to different rooms and the questioning began. As an indication of how seriously he was taking the matter, House was very well-behaved and made relatively few quips and sarcastic comments. As he went from room to room, he grew less patient with the repetitive nature of the questions, but he maintained his cool. Finally things seemed to be winding down, at least for his portion of the interviews. He came out of an office to the left of the main conference room and saw various people wandering around in the hallway, including Wilson and Foreman. He could only hope that somewhere in the crowd was the doc from St. James Hospital and Foreman had convinced him to give testimony against Hunter.

House pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked for messages; the phone was on silent, but it did vibrate once just a short while ago. He smiled as he saw Lydia's message.

"Hi, E.L.F. it's BBB. Things went OK with the interviews; one very good, one eh. I'll tell you more later. Call me when you are free. Ich liebe dich."

House was about to find Wilson in the crowd and let him know he was getting out of this place a little early; at least it would give him a few extra hours with Lydia. There was nothing more that he could do for Tyler right now; he could go visit Bonnie James, but he thought that she would approve if he blew her off in favor of Lydia. He was just about to head over to Wilson, when Kyle James tapped him on the shoulder.

"Dr. House, can I talk to you for a sec?" House nodded and followed him back into the main conference room. Standing there were Jeff Davidson and two other men House didn't recognize. House wasn't entirely sure he liked the look on their faces or the atmosphere in the room; making him feel less happy was the fact that James closed the door behind him.

Wilson glanced down the hall and saw House go into the conference room and the door close; normally it would have raised a red flag in Wilson's mind, but with all the things going on, it didn't faze him. About ten minutes later, the door opened and House was quickly walking down the hall.

"Hey, how did everything go?" Wilson asked.

"Great, just freakin' great. I've…I'm going to get out of here, spend some time with Lydia." Wilson was taken aback.

"Yeah, sure. Is everything OK? You look really rattled."

"No. I'm fine," he said as he maneuvered past Wilson. "I'll see you tomorrow." House made his way out of the legal department and as soon as he was short distance away took out his phone and called Lydia.

"Hi! How's everything going?" she said as she answered.

"Where are you?"

"I'm getting a cup of coffee at the deli a few blocks from the hospital. Greg, what's the matter?"

"I'll explain it when I see you. Park in my space and come straight up to my office when you get here." House hesitated for a moment. "I love you," he said and ended the call without even waiting for Lydia's reply. He walked over to the reception desk and arranged for Lydia's visitor's pass; going back to the elevators, he was relieved to have a car show up right away and to have it to himself.

"Damn! That mother…" yelled out as he pounded his fist on the wall. House was so enraged; all he could see before his eyes was red. As he made his way to his office he hoped that Lydia would hurry; he needed her right now. Thank God, only a few minutes passed before Lydia came rushing down the hallway and into his office.

"Greg, what is going on? What happened since I left?" House didn't even give her the chance to put her bag down; he walked over to her and grabbed her in a hug. As she held him, Lydia could feel how quickly his heart was beating and felt that he was actually shaking.

"Greg, come here; sit down," she said trying to guide him to the chaise lounge. He stood firm and shook his head no. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Hunter has already been to court; he's already filed some suits." Lydia's eyes opened wide.

"Oh, no! Oh, Greg, I'm so sorry!" She went to give him a hug, but he stopped her at arm's length.

"Against Wilson and my team."


	16. Chapter 16

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Sixteen – "Dropping the Curtain"

By: Purpleu

Lydia stood dumbfounded at House's words.

"You…did you just say Wilson and your team? Hunter filed suits against them?" Lydia asked in disbelief. House nodded as he walked over to the chair behind his desk. He sank into it and slumped over.

"When he had the bimbo from medical records pull files, she wasn't pulling just mine," House said flatly. "She was removing theirs, too. His plan is to start the process against them; he's already filed three suits against each of them. Next, it will be my turn with a full barrage of ten against me to take me out right away; then slowly, one by one he'd file additional suits against them, until each one would be barred from practicing medicine. Wilson would lose his position as head of Oncology, my department would cease to exist." House was staring straight ahead, not focusing on anything in particular. "And I wouldn't be able to do a damn thing except sit back and watch as everything I give a crap about fell to pieces."

Moving over behind House's desk, Lydia knelt down on the floor; House had assumed a deeply hunched position, his head touching his knees. She ran her hand over his head, pausing slightly at the spot where he sustained a wound from the crane accident; the past few weeks had been hell for him physically and emotionally. Now this…

"Greg, is there anything I can get you? Something to drink?" He shook his head.

"What I'd want to drink, I don't have in my desk drawer anymore," he said ruefully. "The only other thing I want right now, I don't think you'd approve of." House picked his head up slightly and turned to his right where Lydia was kneeling. Looking into her eyes, he was trying to see her reaction to what he said. She didn't flinch.

"I assume you're talking about Vicodin; no, I would not approve at all." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "But, you are an intelligent, grown man; you know what options are available to you to help you deal with this and you can choose what you please. I would be more disappointed, than anything else, that you so easily gave in and chose one of your weaknesses over one of your strengths to help you and Wilson and your team." House straightened up and looked away from Lydia.

"Why would they want my help? Their association with me is what's causing them grief; only they don't even know that little tidbit yet."

"They don't know that Hunter's filed suits against them? How do you…?" House sighed and leaned all the way back in his chair.

"It's complicated," he said rubbing his hand across his forehead. Lydia leaned on his desk to stand up.

"I'm going to get a cup of coffee; after that, we're going to sit down over there," she said pointing at the chaise lounge, "and you are going to tell me what happened after I left; I need to hear what went on." It wasn't a request, it wasn't a command; it was a statement of fact. House looked up at Lydia; she knew just what to say and how to say it to get him to respond. He forced himself to stand up and he handed her his coffee mug.

"You know how I like it."

"Yes, I do," she said with a smile. Lydia stepped forward and gave House a very gentle kiss. Their eyes met as she pulled back away from him; she could see the hurt, pain and confusion there. What she wouldn't give to take that all away from him…

"Go sit down," she said. House followed her directive as she went into the conference room to get the coffee. "I see there are a few Munchkins left; do you want any?"

"Yeah. They brought in pizzas for lunch, but there was no true break or anything." Lydia was confused.

"Who brought in pizzas? And no break from what?" House, who had moved over to the couch, shook his head.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting you don't know what's happened here." He looked up at Lydia as she brought in the coffee and donut treats; he was actually able to pay attention enough to note how beautiful she looked. It was then he remembered her interviews, "How did your inquisitions go?" Lydia laughed.

"You mean my interviews? I wouldn't think you'd want to talk about that right now." House took his mug from her and stared at her as she sat down; oddly enough, he felt slightly hurt that she thought he didn't care about her job search.

"I may be a total ass, but I'm not a complete dick; yes, I want to talk about your interviews." House looked at his watch. "You have five minutes," he said looking back at her.

"You don't even let as person get some coffee into them," she said taking a drink. "They went well, both of them; I think they are each are interested in hiring me. However, one…I don't think I would want to work for them. They are making a change in their employment policy and rather than grandfathering existing employees in, the changes are going across the board effective in September. They are now making a mandatory retirement age of sixty-five; which they have every right to do, I suppose. The problem is that it is forcing the retirement of several employees including the school nurse, which is how that job would become available. Even the position of full time teacher in the music department would open up only because the woman currently in the job reaches sixty-five next year." Lydia took a sip of her coffee and shook her head. "I don't believe in forced retirement; I think if you're capable of doing a job and still want to do it, you should be allowed."

"Isn't this the school that had the really great benefits and higher salary?" House asked.

"The salary would be higher in the higher position, like nurse or full-time teacher; but yes, the benefits were more extensive." Lydia sighed as she looked into the box of Munchkins and pulled one out. "I can't bring myself to work at a job where I would have to compromise my principles. And if I took a job there, it would be like I'm condoning their policy; if I have to work a little harder somewhere else or cut back on something…I'll do it. The other school confirmed all the contact information I gave, so it looks like something may come of that one," she said as she smiled. House was actually able to smile a bit, too; it took a lot of guts to stand up for your principles and not take the easy way out. After everything Lydia had been through, no one would blame her for taking the money and running with it. Just one more thing to love about her, thought House. Lydia noticed the smile on his face and reached over for his hand.

"Are you OK?"

"No; but better than I was," House said squeezing Lydia's hand. She looked at him with pity in her eyes.

"Please tell me what happened."

House started with The Four Tops rolling through his head right on through to encountering Malcolm Hunter, the confrontation in Tyler's room, the secret recording and Tyler trying to "speak" to House. Next came the meeting with Kyle James, the testimony he gave and finally, James pulling him aside to tell him about the suits filed against Wilson, Taub, Chase, Foreman and Thirteen.

"So here we sit," House said. "Poised to watch that bastard finally win a fight I started almost twenty years ago."

"Greg, you didn't deliberately start anything; he…"

"Stop being so freakin' naïve," he said loudly. House suddenly stood up and put his mug on his desk. "I didn't agree to testify to defend Cuddy's honor; I could see from the paperwork that she screwed up. I was trying to get into her pants, plain and simple. I found the error she made and was just trying to keep Hunter from making things worse for her. I was hoping she'd be so grateful, she'd let me give her one last joyride before her career went kaput. Instead of just going with what he had, which would have nailed her, he tried to outsmart himself and lied." House walked around his desk and sat back in his desk chair. "That slime ball has never forgiven me for putting a…a bump in his career. Now he's going to wreck mine. If he wasn't going after Wilson or anyone else, I would still have an outlet for my diagnostic skills through them as a consultant or something; with Wilson being taken out and losing his department, and my department wiped out, I'll have nothing left. Damn it!" House yelled and threw his cane at the wall adjoining the conference room. House turned his chair toward his desk and put his head into his hands.

Lydia stood up and walked over to the credenza that House threw his cane at; she began to straighten things up, retrieving things from the floor and putting things right. Lastly, she picked up House's cane and brought it to his desk. Sensing the movement, House looked at the cane and then up at Lydia. She was trying desperately to maintain her composure.

"I'm going to go get something to eat; I haven't had any lunch and although I have no appetite right now, I should go…"

"No, don't," House said jumping up from the chair. He reached out and grabbed her by the arms; quickly realizing by the look in her eyes that the gesture may have been too rough and stirred bad memories, he let go of her. "Lydia…I'm confused, I'm scared. I'm standing here, not just watching the department I started fall apart, but people's lives, my best friend's life, as well and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. It pisses me off, it makes me angry. Whatever my motivations were for testifying, I was doing the right thing…and this is what comes of it." House winced and reached down for his leg.

"Come, sit back down," Lydia said ,grabbing him and taking note of the pain he was feeling.

"No, I'm OK," he said holding on to her. House looked at Lydia's face and knew he had hurt her with what he said about Cuddy. "Look, I'm…sorry for what I said before; I know it got you upset." Lydia shook her head and refused to look at him.

"It's alright…"

"No, it's not; I know it bothers you when I talk like that about Cuddy." House ran his hands up and down Lydia's back. "I don't want you to have this image of something I'm not. I wasn't a pimply-faced teen-ager trying to score with a girl; I was a thirtysomething year old man willing to play a game with someone's career to get a piece of ass. It's the way I operate, it's who I am." Lydia nodded; she didn't want to ask this next question, but she had to know.

"Did you ever cheat on Stacy?" House took a deep breath.

"Yes, toward the end when things had gone bad. I think there was some screwing around on both sides. I was looking for an excuse to break things off other than 'I've become a real bastard and I can't trust you anymore now that you've crippled me.' She was looking for some comfort from someone not acting like a jerk." Lydia looked at House and reached up to smooth out his hair.

"I understand why that happened and I'm the last one who should be pointing fingers at anyone, but…please…I could try and deal with the physical betrayal, though it would still be hard for me; but if I ever thought that you felt you couldn't come to me and talk and…" The words just came pouring out of Lydia so quickly that House wasn't sure he heard everything she said, but he caught the gist of what she was trying to say.

"Hey, slow down," he said stroking her cheek. "I know I can talk to you; I find it even easier to talk to you than it is to Wilson sometimes. You're definitely less judgmental than he is. I'm more honest with you than I've been with anyone in my life." Lydia swallowed hard a few times; she knew House's emotion were feeling raw right now, she didn't want to add to them with her own tears.

"I know it's foolish, but I can't help but think about the fact that you've been with a lot of women and you told me that you gave Cuddy everything she asked for that night and…"

"Stop!" House said half laughing. "I've got to give you a quick lesson in the male ego and locker room talk. A lot of the hookers…I had over just to have someone to talk to; yes, I got my rocks off, but not always to home plate. Then there were times I wasn't in the mood to talk, did the deed and showed them the door. Stacy...it was two people who loved each other, having fun; we each had our own things that turned our cranks and we made it work. Cuddy…" House saw that Lydia was biting her lip. "I get more turned on by a simple kiss from you than anything that happened that night with Cuddy." He pulled her in closer. "To be honest with you, she sucked. Well, actually that's not true; maybe if she did, it would have helped matters…" Lydia quickly pulled back, her eyes wide.

"I don't want to hear it, I don't need to hear the gory details," she said throwing up her hands and closing her eyes. When she opened them, she saw a wicked glint in House's eyes; she couldn't help but to start to laugh. "Why is it that every time I get upset, you always manage to find a way to make me laugh?" House shrugged.

"Glad I do; it's the best defense mechanism I've got." Lydia continued to laugh as House pulled her in and gave her a long, passionate kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too. I'm sorry I took thing off on a tangent about relationships and things, but the subject just sort of presented itself."

"That's OK; I'm more relaxed now than I was a little while ago," said House. He held Lydia tighter and pressed his body firmly against hers. "Almost relaxed."

"Hmmm, yes I can tell," she said smiling. House lightly rubbed her back and returned her smile. He saw a sudden change in her facial expression. "Oooh, my stomach's cramping up because it's so empty," she said grabbing her abdomen. House took a step back and grasped the edge of his desk.

"Go take the last of the Munchkins and get them into you; that'll hold off the hunger pains until we can get to the restaurant." Lydia moved back over to the chaise lounge and picked up the box.

"There are five left; are you sure you don't want one?" she asked.

"Nah, you need them more than I do." House moved a few things around on his desk and started to shut down his computer. "If nothing else, Hunter's made everyone more aware of security in this place. Let me just log this off and then we can get out of here."

"Greg, are you sure you're going to want to go out and eat? I'd hate to see you order something you want and then not touch any of it." House made a final tap on his keyboard and stood up.

"You need to eat and by the time we get to the restaurant, I'll be getting hungry. I told Wilson I was getting out of this place to spend some time with you; I choose to do so at Shiro's of Japan." Lydia smiled as she wiped her hands on a napkin.

"You know, it really is overwhelming to think about the amount of crimes Hunter has committed is such a short amount of time; hundreds of felonies through the HIPPA violations, bribery, coercion, falsifying documents, forgery, child abuse, spousal abuse if you ask me, and on top of it all, his wife is going to divorce him." Lydia shook her head as she put her bag on her shoulder. "If I were Hunter, and was hit with all of that, all at once, I'd fold like a house of cards." She started to head to the door of the office. House picked his cane up from his desk and started forward, when he froze; he got a certain look in his eyes that those who worked with him for years knew all too well. Lydia knew it, too. When House wasn't following right behind her, she turned to look at him.

"Greg?" she said as she walked back to him. "What are you thinking?" When he turned to look at Lydia, she saw a familiar gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face; it made her feel good to see them both.

"I'm going to say to you the three words a woman most wants to hear," House said. Lydia looked confused.

"You've already said 'I love you' to me." House shook his head.

"Nope. 'Let's Go Shopping.'" He walked past a stunned Lydia. "But first I have to talk to the A.D.A.," House said. Lydia quickly turned and followed House out the door.

"Of all the men in this world that I would expect to want to go shopping, you are the last one that comes to mind. And why do we have to talk with the Assistant District Attorney before we can go shopping?" House was making his way rapidly down the hall to the elevators.

"Assistant District Attorney Kevin…or Kilroy... whatever his first name is…James is the husband of the patient I was treating on Monday, when you came wandering in like a little girl lost; he's eternally grateful I helped his wife and he's my biggest cheerleader within the legal eagle sect downstairs. I trust him the most to run any ideas past." House pushed the call button. He stared off into space, his brain still processing the thoughts that came to him in his office.

"So what is this nefarious plan you have devised? I take it's something that will bring Hunter to his knees," Lydia said as she stared up at the display panel enumerating the floors as the elevator passed them by; a ding signaled its arrival at their floor. House looked cautiously inside the car as the last time he used this mode of transportation, he encountered Hunter. They stepped inside and Lydia pushed the button for the lobby.

"You didn't answer my question," she said. "What's the plan?" House looked at her and smiled.

"I'm going to make arrangements for Malcolm L. Hunter, esquire, to go to jail, to go directly to jail, he's not going to pass 'Go' and he sure as hell is not going to collect two-hundred dollars."

A couple of hours later, House was feeding Lydia a piece of his lobster with chopsticks as they sat in Shiro's of Japan hibachi restaurant. After meeting with Kyle James and running some errands, not the least of which was buying Lydia a new bedroom set, they had finally made it to the restaurant. A couple of Auntie Anne's pretzels and some lemonade from the stand at the mall helped to stave off their hunger.

"Oh, that lobster is out of this world!" Lydia said savoring the bite. "Do you want another shrimp?"

"Sure, why not?" House leaned forward and Lydia placed the prawn in his mouth with her chopsticks; House was really enjoying the meal. He found that there was something very sensual about feeding another person and being fed. They were seated at a community table which was the norm in a hibachi restaurant, but they were at the end near the wall; their table wasn't full and if House angled himself the right way, they had a certain measure of privacy. He was surprisingly happy at the moment.

"How is your food?" The waiter had come over to remove some plates.

"Everything is good. Another glass of plum wine," House said pointing at Lydia. The waiter bowed and backed away from the table.

"You ordered me more wine?" Lydia asked. "That will be my fourth glass."

"Relax, you're not driving for once," House said as he played with her hair. "Now maybe I can see what you're like when you're a bit tipsy." Lydia sat up a little straighter.

"I'm the same as I always am; I just giggle a little bit more," she said with a smile.

"I suspected as much." He picked up his glass of wine; normally it wasn't House's sort of drink, but it had been quite a while since he last had plum wine and decided to give it a whirl. He found it wasn't bad. The waiter returned with Lydia's wine and they clinked glasses before taking a drink.

"I loved what you told me, about how you realized you wanted to be a doctor. How seeing the _buraku_ be the one everyone went to for help with medicine, but in social situations, they just shunned him. You were so young when you encountered him; did you really relate that much to him?" House looked into his glass and swirled the wine around a bit.

"He had no choice but to be shunned; he was born into an untouchable caste. By the social order of things, his brilliance could only be used, never truly acknowledged or appreciated." House took another drink. "I was a bastard since the beginning; I knew that even though my parents tried to pretend I wasn't. I always felt somehow people sensed it, that they knew I was different. Back in those days, it was still the child who was considered illegitimate, not the parents; so I guess I felt the need to carry the burden of guilt, felt that I didn't deserve things like happiness, even though I hadn't done anything to make me unworthy. Like the _buraku_ and Lady Gaga, I was born this way." Lydia reached over for House's hand. He was staring down at his drink, not returning her gaze.

"I think I can see now why you felt such a connection with the _buraku_; but his society was wrong to judge him and ostracize him for something that was no fault of his own. From what you've said, he held himself with a dignity that the world denied him." House looked away from Lydia.

"I only said I saw some similarities between us; I never said I carried myself through life with the same grace that he did." Lydia tilted her head and moved it until she caught House's gaze.

"I think you're doing fine."

"Yeah, which is why I'm in the predicament I'm in; emphasis on the 'dic.'" She gave him a disapproving look.

"I think you've come up with a very creative way to stop Hunter from hurting you or anyone else; and it's going to take a lot of guts to pull it off." House shrugged.

"I wouldn't go polishing up any medals for me yet; we'll find out tomorrow." Looking at his watch, he said, "We still have a few more creative things to do tonight." He moved his eyebrows up and down in a lecherous manner. "Want to get out of here and get back to my place so we can continue our night's work?" Lydia smiled.

"That's a wonderful idea; I can't wait to get out of these clothes." House was taking his last drink of wine and almost choked when she uttered those words; he started laughing.

"I love it when great minds think alike," he said wiping his mouth. House saw their waiter passing by and gestured to him.

"Can I have the check?"

"I meant I've been all dressed up and with these heels on since early this morning. These clothes aren't uncomfortable; I just feel like wearing something a little less restricting." House looked her over quickly as she stood up.

"Yeah, there are way too many zippers and buttons on there for an easy escape." He stood up as the waiter brought the check over. "Thank you." He looked the bill over and took money out of his wallet and placed it in the leather folder the waiter had brought, "I'll say one thing though; you look beautiful no matter what you wear." House gave Lydia a kiss, grabbed his cane and started over in the direction of the waiter. "Thank you," he said again as he handed the folder to the waiter. The waiter bent at the waist as Lydia and House left the dining area.

"I don't think I've ever heard you be so polite," she commented.

"It's a part of the culture; verbal acknowledgement of a job well done is just as important as whatever monetary reward you leave." Lydia started to rummage through her messenger tote. "Do you want me to bring the car to the door? It looks like it's still raining."

"Nope; I came prepared." She pulled a small umbrella out of her bag.

"Just what I love: a woman who's ready for anything." Lydia gave House a look.

"I'm dating you; I have no choice." House gave her a hurt puppy dog look as he opened the door. Lydia laughed, opened the umbrella and they walked to House's car.

As House neared his apartment, the rain had let up slightly, but there were no parking spots particularly close. Rather than make Lydia walk too far, he let her out by the entrance to his building so she could open the doors; after parking the car, he pulled his suit jacket over his head as he exited the car and made his way quickly down the sidewalk to his front door. Thanks to Lydia, he was able to step directly inside with no hesitation. Despite all their efforts, the two of them both got more than a little wet; the wind had picked up and was blowing the rain sideways at some points. As House hung up his cane and looked over his mail, Lydia changed out of her wet clothes and threw on a light cotton dress, very much like a beach cover up. She emerged from the bedroom, came down the hall and started to fiddle with some of the boxes the movers had stacked up yesterday.

"Hey, no fair!" Lydia looked around from the corner of one of the stacks of boxes to where House was standing.

"What's the matter?"

"You got naked without letting me watch," House complained in a whiny voice.

"And I'm standing here in dry clothes and you're not. I can't help it if you found your mail more interesting than me. Is that a Victoria Secret's catalog?"

"Yeah," House said as he flipped through the pages. "It's cheaper than Playboy, but not as fulfilling." Lydia had walked over and took the catalog out of House's hands. "You know, I should pick out an outfit from there for you."

"No, we should pick out two outfits: one _you_ want to see me in and one _I_ want you to see me in." She moved in closer to him and gave him a lingering kiss.

"That sounds like a great idea," he said moving to give her a hug.

"Stop! You're wet and we have work to do; go get changed and we'll concentrate on fun stuff later." She gave him a peck on the cheek and went back over to the boxes. He smiled as he watched her walk away.

House made his way to the bedroom; he took off his jacket and hung it up behind the door. He noticed as he came down the hall that Lydia already had some of her things drying in the bathroom; no biggie, it will still dry hanging here. He thought about what to put on as he unbuttoned his shirt and took off his pants. No point in putting on jeans or another pair of pants; they weren't going back out tonight. Too warm for sweatpants. House shrugged; might as well leave it as boxers. He took off the ones he had been wearing all day and put on a fresh pair; the rain hadn't soaked him, but this just felt more comfortable. He slipped on a t-shirt and headed back into the living room.

"I hope you don't mind, but I decided to go for the casual, stay-at-home look," he said walking over to Lydia. She had opened one of the moving boxes and was pulling a few things out and placing them on top of the items they bought at the stores earlier in the day. She looked up from her work and smiled as House came to her.

"I don't mind the look in the least," Lydia said as House wrapped his arms around her. He smiled and brought his hand around and ran it down her cheek; Lydia tilted her head up and House gave her a kiss; gentle at first, but with each one a greater sense of urgency.

"Hmmm…Greg, we have some things that have to be taken care of for tomorrow. Those things can't wait," Lydia managed to say as House kissed her neck.

"Yes, they can," he said as he moved to the other side of her neck and left trail of kisses there. He felt Lydia pushing him back and knew he had to allay her fears. "I know there are things that we need to do for tomorrow; but I need this right now, too." He ran his hand down her arm and took her hand in his. House started to lead her to the hallway, but Lydia paused as they passed the end of the couch. She backed up a few steps and pulled House with her to the couch.

"Umm…the bedroom is the room with bed," House said a bit unsure of what she was doing. Lydia smiled as she gently pushed him into sitting on the sofa.

"I know; but it seems to me that this worked very well back at Mayfield. And with a lot more clothes on back then." With one swift movement, Lydia straddled his legs and sat down on top of his lap, a move which took House totally by surprise. He looked up into her eyes and saw the perfect combination of love and lust there; the ultimate turn on. Lydia ran her hands down his chest to the edge of his t-shirt; she grasped the edge and pulled it over his head.

"Hey, I just put that on," House half protested with a smile.

"And I just took it off," Lydia said as she leaned forward and began to kiss and nuzzle the crook of his neck. He breathed more heavily as he slid the straps of Lydia's dress off her shoulders; he figured out the other night her shoulders were one of those unexpected erogenous zones and it drove her crazy when he lightly ran his fingers over them like he was doing now. The small whimpering sounds she was making let him know it was working. He moved his hands down to her thighs; he ran them upward and was surprised when there was nothing there to give him resistance. House started to chuckle and Lydia stopped what she was doing to look at him.

"You're commando," he said in an amazed voice as he moved his hands around to her tush. "I'm going to stop calling you my naïve little vixen and just call you my vixen." Lydia leaned back into him and nuzzled his ear.

"I thought you'd like it," she whispered as she moved her hands down past the waistband of his boxers and wiggled her hips slightly. "Plus, it makes it easier to do this." House dropped his head back, closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath as he realized what Lydia had done. Damn, she was full of surprises; maybe the reassurance he gave her today that she should stop worrying about his past did some good. He leaned forward and sat up a little more as the two slowly began to make love.

He needed this tonight; not just the sex, although he would never say no to that. He needed the comfort of feeling this much caring, this much love. This whole scene reminded him so much of that night at Mayfield; there he was at rock bottom and despite that she wanted to be with him, not just physically, but emotionally as well. He realized that she was moaning and he kissed her neck and ran his hands over her shoulders. Now here he was at the bottom again it would seem, thanks to Hunter, and here she was supporting him, even with his plan for tomorrow. He became aware of both their bodies trembling and louder moans coming from her and himself as well; she finally fell against him, limp in his arms. And as he held her, just as at Mayfield, a tear rolled down his cheek….

"Hon, it's after nine; do you want to leave soon?" Lydia called out as she washed the breakfast dishes. House looked up from the papers he was reading as he sat on the end of the bed.

"My meeting with the ADA is at ten and I've already checked in with Wilson to see how things are going with the kid. We've got some time." He stood up, put the papers on the bed and came down the hall. Lydia emerged from the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel.

"How is Tyler today?" House shrugged.

"Things seem to be stable; he had about five hours straight sleep, which was an accomplishment. His mother got a decent night's sleep, too as did Davidson which is good; they'll both be ready for things later today."

"The question is, are you ready for things?" She tossed the towel onto her shoulder and walked over to him. House nodded.

"Sure; I love slaying dragons. Or fighting windmills whichever is most appropriate. Besides, I had the breakfast of champions; I'm ready for anything." Lydia smiled.

"I guess you liked the French Toast," she said.

"That was incredible. What did you say was in it?"

"A little brown sugar, a splash of vanilla and a bit of cinnamon along with the eggs and milk."

"Rachel Ray, look out. She's smart, she's beautiful, she's talented, she's the hottest woman I have ever known…and she can cook. I think we have an applicant who can fill the job." Lydia gave him a puzzled look.

"What job?" House smiled and put his arms around her

"The job of turning me into a human being." Lydia made a face.

"Stop it; there's nothing wrong with you that some good loving couldn't fix." House smiled.

"You gave me plenty of that last night."

"Where? On the couch or in the bed?" Lydia asked.

"Both. You…very pleasantly surprised me last night. You definitely were more aggressive, adventurous…than you had been before; should I be chalking that up to the plum wine?"

"A little, I guess. I…I'll explain it to you later."

"You don't have to explain it, just give me a repeat performance." Lydia looked at him quizzically.

"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised with you; from what I've read, many men your age need a little…help to have as much stamina as you. And I know you don't take a little blue pill."

"Men my age?" House asked, taking a step back; he was genuinely wounded by her comment.

"Well, men in their…_very_ early fifties. You are ten years older than me you know."

"Yeah, we established that the other day. Look, just because there's snow on the rooftop, doesn't mean there isn't a fire in the rumpus room." Lydia threw her head back and dissolved into helpless laughter; she wound up falling into House's arms so as to not crash into the wall.

"Oh, that is especially true in your case," she said continuing to laugh. She glanced at her watch. "Greg, we have to get going. Let me just brush my teeth."

"OK, I'll take some things out to your car since you dropped it off right outside my door yesterday and is the reason I couldn't park closer last night."

"You're the one that told me to park there; I wanted to drive."

"I wanted to get you drunk; it was worth it." Lydia shook her head as she walked away. "I'll get this stuff into the car."

"Thanks; at least I'll be able to put some towels in my bathroom at the house. What time do you want me over at the hospital?"

"Around three," House said as he picked up some shopping bags. That, he thought, is when the battle begins.

House's meetings with Kyle James and some of the other people involved in Hunter's take down went well; everyone was on the same page and knew their part to play. House was too wound up and antsy to even sit and play some video games over in the pediatric area; instead, he wandered around and visited Bonnie James to check on her bedsore that wasn't healing. He was disgusted when he was told that wound care only ordered an egg crate mattress to relive pressure on the wound and not anything topical. House stopped by the nurses' station and wrote an order for Curasol, a gel wound care aid; Bonnie was staying in PPTH another day since her husband was busy with the case against M&M, but she had been moved to a private room at House's insistence and the hospital's expense.

House stood by the elevators and looked at his watch: ten minutes to three. Zero hour was fast approaching. He pushed the call button and waited rather impatiently, pacing back and forth; he jumped when his cell phone rang.

"Hi, are you here?" he asked as he answered.

"Yes, I'm down in the parking garage; I'm just pulling into the spot you told me to go to," Lydia said.

"Meet me in the lobby." The elevator arrived and House cautiously stepped in; he was still taking no chances. The car made no stops on the way down and House found himself in the lobby. He spied Lydia standing by the reception desk and hurried over to her.

"Come here," he said walking toward what had been Cuddy's office. He opened the door and the two quickly stepped inside. House gave her a kiss.

"Now, remember: stay in here, don't open the door, don't take any chance of Hunter seeing you."

"I know, Greg; we've gone over this. I promise I will stay put." Lydia could see an uneasy look in his eyes. "You can trust me." House nodded, gave her another kiss and left the room.

When he stepped out into the lobby he could see that all the players were gathering: Wilson, his team, Jeanne Hunter, Jeffrey Davidson and other assorted people mingling in with the regular hospital visitors.

"OK," Kyle James announced, "everyone knows what they have to do?" There was a general chorus of yesses. "Good; here's hoping." He looked over at House and crossed his fingers. House had moved to the back of the lobby where he wouldn't be seen from the front door, but he could still see out. Several minutes later, he saw a black limo pull up outside.

Showtime, he thought.

Malcolm Hunter came striding through the door, full of his usual bluster. He began to walk around the reception desk, when a security guard stopped him.

"Excuse me, sir; you have to sign in."

"What? I've never had to do that before," he said indignantly.

"Sorry, sir; there was an incident here yesterday within the hospital. You have to show ID and sign in." Hunter was clearly not happy at the inconvenience. He pulled his license out of his wallet and handed it to the receptionist.

"Hold on one moment Mr. Hunter," she said.

"Excuse me." Hunter's head turned to his right; there stood an attractive blonde in a rather short skirt.

"Yes, can I help you?" he asked as he looked her up and down.

"I'm a law student and I thought I recognized you and…well, then I heard the woman say your name. You are Malcolm G. Hunter, the famous attorney?" Hunter frowned.

"No, I'm Malcolm _L._ Hunter, the famous attorney." He turned so that he faced the young woman

"Well, Mr. Hunter," the woman said as she pulled a packet of paper out from under her blazer, "You've been served," she said, thrusting the papers into his hands.

"What…what the hell is this?" he demanded.

"Divorce papers, along with an order of protection for Mrs. Jeanne Hunter, your wife and your son Tyler Robert Hunter."

"My son?" he yelled, "Look, she's got no right…"

"I'm afraid she has every right, Mr. Hunter." He looked to his left and saw Susan Lewis, the woman from the therapists' office walking toward him. "You have denied your son proper health care for years; my office, Dr. Wilson and Dr. House's team have reported this to Child Protective Services," House's team and Wilson moved forward into Hunter's view as Mrs. Lewis spoke. "They have already begun an investigation." Hunter began to get flustered.

"You have no proof…"

"Oh, we have all the proof we need on a lot of things," said Kyle James as he stepped up. "We have you on tape saying you refused your son medical therapy and that your wife was willing to have treatment continue, but you stopped it."

"You bastard!" Hunter yelled. "You bugged my son's room?"

"No, it seems Dr. House forgot to shut his cell phone off when I called him yesterday and fortunately, the recording equipment we were setting up on her phone," he said pointing to Cheryl Cooke, "picked up on everything you said. Oh and don't bother trying to go to your office. It's been sealed off and my office has possession of the contents including the copies of all the files you had Ms. Cooke steal for you. Looks like there are hundreds of HIPPA violations there; and since you were going to use the information for malicious purposes, namely ruining the career of Dr. Gregory House, they are all felonies. " Hunter began to sweat.

"She's a liar!" he shouted pointing at Cheryl Cooke. "This is ridiculous!"

"As ridiculous as forging my signature on your incorporation papers." Retired Family court Judge Harold R. Carmichael, father of Jeanne Hunter came forward.

"And my signature as well," Jeanne added in as she and Davidson walked into Hunter's view.

"Don't even bother trying to deny it," Judge Carmichael said. "We've already submitted handwriting samples to prove the fraud." Hunter was red in the face and nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other not knowing which way to go; no matter where he turned, there was someone accusing him of something. Even the visitors to the hospital who had stopped to wonder what was happening appeared to be accusing him.

"Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm," said a loud voice from the back of the crowd. House made his way to the front of the reception desk. "Feel like the world is ganging up on you? Look at this: your wife, your father-in-law, your accountant, random people who work in the hospital. Seems like it's a 'Let's get Malcolm' convention."

"This is your doing," Hunter said pointing a finger at House. "You're still pissed that I went after Dr. Cuddy years ago and this is your revenge."

"As I seem to recall, you lost that court fight to the point that you were almost disbarred for lying and submitting false evidence to the court; then again, some things don't change," House said as he looked over his shoulder at Dr. Murphy, the doctor from St James Hospital. Hunter began to visibly shake.

"You son-of-a-bitch, you are not going to get away with this," he raged.

"There's nothing for me to get away with; these nice people found enough evidence of your lying, cheating, child abusing unscrupulous ways. I just pointed them in the right direction with a little help from my friends." A sudden flash of lightening and roll of thunder startled Hunter and he looked out the door as the rain began to fall.

"You know, Malcolm, old buddy, you were right about what you said yesterday: On a day like this, a cardboard box would get wet very quickly; looks like I'm not going to need it. You, however are going to jail to spend a long, long time there. Looks like I win again." House twirled his cane in the manner of Charlie Chaplin, turned his back to Hunter and began to walk away.

"You bastard! You son-of-a-bitch!" Hunter rushed at House, who still had his back to him, and body checked him while pulling his cane away from him. House crashed face down on the floor while screams filled the lobby. Hunter, who was still holding House's cane, began swinging it wildly at House as he lay on the floor, striking him repeatedly in the head.

"YOU BASTARD! YOU BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU!"

pouse who hadn't answered her.


	17. Chapter 17

Puppet Master

Chapter Seventeen-"Taking a Bow"

By: Purpleu

The lobby of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was in chaos. Foreman and Chase were closest to where House lay on the floor being attacked by Malcolm Hunter, and they jumped on him to pull him away from House. Hunter was still swinging the cane around wildly, striking both Foreman and Chase. Taub and the security guard had moved into the fray along with a uniformed police officer, Taub was trying to wrestle the cane out of Hunter's grasp, but no one could control Hunter. He was a man possessed, cursing and raging at everyone; even when Taub finally managed to get the cane away from him, Hunter broke free and charged at the prone figure of House and began kicking him in the ribs. Wilson had moved forward to get to House; he positioned himself between the two and shielded House's prone form.

"Taser!" shouted another uniformed officer who had come on the scene; but before anyone could act, Chase was able to get in several quick blows to Hunter's abdomen, which slowed him down enough for the two cops to get a handle on things and put handcuffs on him. Hunter was still thrashing and fighting them.

"Hey, hey! Calm down, calm down or you will get tased. Hey, do you hear me? Look at me, sir, look at me." Hunter turned his attention to the policeman standing in front of him. "Are you listening? Do you understand what I am saying?" Hunter reluctantly nodded his head.

"This…this is bulls**t," Hunter rasped, out of breath and still struggling with the police although with far less ferocity than before. "These charges…are…all lies. I don't need," he said still breathing heavily, "to resort… to that kind of behavior to win…my cases. I am Malcolm…L….Hunter…"

"The 'L' standing for loser." House pushed himself up and onto his left hip; Wilson looked at him in amazement, not believing that House was able to move with such ease after the beating unleashed on him by Hunter. A large welt on the left side of his forehead was evidence of where his head hit the floor; there was a large patch of redness on House's left cheekbone. The wound from the crane accident on the back of his head had been partially reopened and was bleeding.

"YOU BASTARD! I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU!" Hunter tried to lunge at House, but the police officers held him tightly.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you if you can't say anything nice, shut up?" House asked. Wilson moved behind House.

"House lean back against me," Wilson said.

"I don't need…"

"That's not a request as a friend; it's a command as the interim dean of medicine and your boss." House glanced over his shoulder at him.

"That's _co_-interim dean of medicine; don't get so high and mighty." House fell back against Wilson; as soon as he did, the blood from House's head wound started leaving an elongated stain on Wilson's shirt. Not wanting to stray too far from the scene, Chase ran to the men's room off the lobby and brought back both wet and dry paper towels to try and stop the flow of blood. They would have to do until they could get House to the emergency room.

"Get these cuffs off of me, get them off now!" demanded Hunter.

"They can't do that I'm afraid," Kyle James said coming forward.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because in addition to all the other charges that you were facing before this, you're under arrest for attempted murder and assault with a deadly weapon against Dr. Gregory House and several other people as well. Plus resisting arrest, assault on a police officer; the list just goes on and on." James looked at the cops. "Get him down to booking."

"You can't do this…this…" Hunter looked around desperately. "Jeanne, Jeanne, where are you? You know what they said about me mistreating Tyler isn't true; you know we're just having a rough spot. Taking care of him is a nightmare; you're so tired and worn out, you can't think clearly. You don't want to divorce me." Jeanne Hunter stepped forward around the corner of the reception desk; during the disturbance, she had stayed in the back with Davidson. She was now face to face with her husband.

"You have mistreated Tyler; not only have you denied him proper medical care, you have deprived him of the love every child wants from a parent, especially a son from his father. You have never even given him a hug or held him when he was a baby." She took a deep breath. "And yes, I do want to divorce you and keep you as far away from Tyler as I can. You don't deserve a beautiful child like him." Hunter stared at Jeanne blankly for a moment; then, he started to laugh, quietly, slowly until it built up and filled the room.

"A beautiful child? Are you kidding me? He's six; he can't talk, he needs diapers, he runs around like wild animal…the kid's a freak!" Jeanne Hunter reached out and smacked her husband across the face.

"Don't ever talk about my son like that," she said in a trembling voice. Tears started to well up in her eyes, but she refused to let Hunter see her cry. House was impressed; so was the crowd who was watching. Some let out an audible gasp when Jeanne struck Hunter; others offered words of approval, "Yeah." "You go, girl." and such.

"Did you see that? She hit me, she assaulted me…"

"Enough!" yelled Kyle James. "Get him out of here. Now!" The two police officers grabbed Hunter by the elbows and began to pull him toward the door. Hunter dragged his feet and fought to free himself from their grasp. He continued to yell threats and obscenities as he was led to the doors.

"House! This isn't over…I will get you…I will make you look over your shoulder for the rest of your life." House winced in pain as he turned to look at Hunter leaving.

"You'll be doing the same. I hear Gorgo the swamp monster of cell block 'D' for 'dick', is real insistent on getting his loving on demand."

"You…." Hunter continued his rant but no one heard him as he went past the glass doors and outside to the waiting police car.

There was an odd sort of quiet in the lobby, just whispered conversations between various small groups milling about. People from the D.A.'s office were getting names and taking information from those who had simply wandered into the lobby and had not been part of the planned events; they would be the unbiased witnesses. House was still on the floor being supported by Wilson, with Thirteen kneeling next to them; Chase, Foreman and Taub stood around the group in a semi-circle, still dazed over what happened.

"Is Hunter gone?" House asked.

"Yeah, they got him out of here finally," said Foreman as he rubbed his shoulder where he had been hit.

"The cop car pulled away?"

"Yes, he's gone," Thirteen said reassuringly. House nodded.

"Go get Lydia. She's in Cuddy's office." Everyone looked at each other, surprised by what he said. Taub walked over to the office door, opened it, and as soon as he did, Lydia came rushing out, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, my God, Greg…" She quickly knelt down opposite Thirteen and very gently touched his face where he had been injured; the swelling was becoming more apparent, and the redness had intensified. She wanted to just grab him and hug him, but didn't know where to touch that wouldn't hurt. "Are you OK?" She was trying to control her tears, but the images of Hunter pounding on him, just kept flashing through her head.

"Hunky-dory. I feel like I've been run over by Gravedigger," House said, referring to his and Lydia's son's favorite monster truck. Lydia managed a little laugh.

"That name is a little too close to being appropriate for me right now." He reached for her hand and she began crying intently.

"Lydia, we're going to get X-rays, whatever else we need to see what damage the attack did," Wilson said, a slight quiver in his voice. "We'll get him to a room…"

"The hell you will; I don't need to stay in the hospital."

"House…" Wilson began.

"Dr. Foreman?" Foreman turned to see one of the nurses from the emergency room coming toward the group with a wheelchair; in the seat was a collection of medical supplies. He looked puzzled.

"I had said a backboard and collar when I called," Foreman said.

"I know; the ER just went nuts. An accident between a school bus and a city bus occurred over on Lancaster near Linwood. The school bus was about half full as was the public bus," Nurse Byron said. "Nothing seems to be life-threatening from what's being called in ahead of ambulance arrivals, but we're trying to divide the patients between us, Plainsboro General and Princeton Medical Center."

"Do you need any help in there?" Chase asked.

"No, we seem to have things covered pretty well; Dr. Stewart is overseeing the flow of cases and things are busy, but under control." She pointed to the contents of the wheelchair. "I brought the supplies you requested, but we can't really spare a backboard or collar unless absolutely necessary."

"I don't need it," House protested. "I can…" He made and attempt to roll away from Wilson and stand up, but his body soon convinced him that was an unwise move.

"Greg, at least use the wheelchair," Lydia implored. After a moment, House begrudgingly agreed.

"Fine; get me into Cuddy's office. I can lie down on the sofa." Taub and Thirteen removed the medical supplies from the seat of the chair; Wilson continued to support House's back while Chase and Foreman knelt down on one knee on either side of him. Lydia stepped back out of the way; she watched as they got House under the arms, lifted him up and put him into the chair. House now had a clear view of the lobby; he saw Jeanne Hunter, her father and Jeffrey Davidson standing to one side. The security guard was being interviewed as was Susan Lewis, Dr. Murphy and the attractive blonde who had served Hunter with his divorce papers and orders of protection for Jeanne and Tyler. Other assorted people were standing around talking. The scene looked surrealistic to House's foggy brain; he was anxious to get away from it.

"Get me into the office," he said as he noticed people starting to stare at him. Taub, Foreman, Thirteen and Chase followed behind Wilson as he moved the chair forward toward Cuddy's old office. Lydia stepped ahead of them and opened the door, then stepped back out into the lobby; she looked to her right and saw House's cane lying on the floor where it had been thrown after Taub had gotten it away from Hunter. Lydia walked over to it, picked it up, gave it a kiss and smiled. She headed into the room.

Taub and Chase grabbed the coffee table that sat in front of the couch and moved it to the side. Wilson placed the wheelchair parallel to the couch so House could make an easy move to the sofa.

"This side comes off somehow," Wilson said looking it over.

"Here, let me," Lydia said leaning House's cane against the end of the couch. She moved a few latches and was able to lift the side right off. "All those years of caring for my parents taught me a lot." She went around to the back of the chair and locked the wheels so House could transfer safely. Thirteen had come over to fix the pillows and grab a throw to cover him with. House pushed off of the left arm of the chair and slid on to the couch grimacing in pain. He moved around trying to get comfortable as Lydia took the afghan from Thirteen and spread it out over House. Wilson took the wheelchair out of the way as Foreman walked over; he offered House a water bottle and two ice packs, one for his face, one for the back of his head. Lydia helped him lean forward and she positioned the pack on the cut with a thick wad of gauze that Taub was handing her in between. She held it in place as House laid back down. House took the second pack and put it gingerly on his forehead and let it drape onto his cheekbone.

"Water?" Lydia offered as she sat on the edge of the couch. House very slightly shook his head no.

"I called radiology and asked them to send a portable x-ray machine over; once we see what fractures you sustained, we'll better be able to treat you," he said. "Did you get a look at the back of his head?" Foreman asked Thirteen.

"Not as good as I would have liked; some patients are uncooperative," she said giving House a look.

"So are some doctors," he answered. Wilson had been pacing the office.

"What…what just happened out there? When we all talked to Kyle, he said that everyone ganging up on Hunter would probably provoke him into throwing something or fighting with a security guard and he could be arrested for those things; he would be held for twenty-four hours maybe and it would give his office time to prepare initial charges against Hunter on some of the other stuff…." There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Foreman called out. Kyle James poked his head into the room.

"Hi, just wanted to check on Dr. House," he said. He looked over at the couch. "How are you doing? Hanging in there?" House made a slight gesture with his head.

"As good as anyone could feel after they've played croquet ball for a mad man."

"Hello?" Jeffrey Davidson and Jeanne Hunter had opened the door wider and ventured in as well.

"Hi, come on in; the party's in here," Thirteen said with a wave of her hand. The pair entered the room and looked around for House; Jeanne spotted him to their left.

"Dr. House, I am so sorry," she said tearing up as she spoke. "I had no idea that Malcolm would go after you that viciously; I was so afraid all your 'protective measures' weren't going to work."

"Protective measures?" Taub said.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Chase asked.

"Why weren't we told what was going to happen?" Wilson demanded.

"Hey!" House called out. "The Swedish fish swimming around in my head are nibbling away at my brain enough as it is. Help me sit up and get this stuff off," he said to Lydia. "While I'm doing my striptease, why don't you," he said indicating Kyle, "Fill in the blanks." Lydia began to assist House into a sitting position as the assistant district attorney gave an explanation of the events.

"Tom Roslyn, the attorney that Hunter had employed and was using to bring the malpractice lawsuits against Dr. House, came to us after your meeting yesterday morning and informed us that he discovered that Hunter's plan was broader in spectrum than we had first thought. Yesterday, Hunter filed three malpractice suits against each of you," Kyle said, indicating Wilson and the team.

"Oh, my God," Thirteen said.

"What?" Foreman asked in disbelief.

"Why? How?" Wilson asked. Everyone had settled into a chair or was leaning on the desk; Lydia had helped House sit up, removed his blazer and was unbuttoning his shirt.

"When Cheryl Cooke removed the files on Dr. House, information on the team was there as well; after all, you all worked the cases together. She also removed files on your cases, Dr. Wilson. Hunter's plan was to make the initial filing against you all to get things started, then file the ten suits that would require Dr. House to be suspended; he wouldn't be able to do anything to help you in any way as Hunter then filed the remaining suits that would leave you all unable to practice medicine. You would lose your positions here at the hospital and be unemployed and temporarily unemployable."

"That bastard!" exclaimed Chase.

"We'd all be wandering around, too busy trying to protect ourselves individually; we wouldn't be able to work as a team," Thirteen said.

"Divide and conquer," Taub noted.

"Exactly," said Kyle. "Dr. House came to me yesterday with the idea of provoking Hunter to the point where he went nuts and actually attacked Dr. House; he knew if he could enrage Hunter enough, we could bring charges of assault and possibly attempted murder. Well, after what Hunter screamed out and what he did in that lobby, we've got him. There are at least a dozen people who recorded all or part of it with their cell phones both from ground level and above." Wilson had continued to pace while James was telling the story.

"Forgive me, Mr. James, but how the hell did you allow House to do this? It was reckless, dangerous…he could have been killed! And why weren't we informed of the change in plans and the filings against us?"

"First of all, the plan to rattle Hunter into doing something stupid was a good one; I never intended to use Dr. House as bait. However, once he got the idea into his head, I could tell there was no way to stop him. He didn't want you guys to know about the change in plans to have the element of surprise on our side. If you knew, you would try and stop Hunter a little too quickly; we needed him to really make it a true assault and hope that Hunter would say 'I'll kill you' which he did. As far as not telling you about the filing…we knew it would all be over and done with by today one way or the other; in the meantime, Dr. House didn't want you to worry."

"Plus, Greg came up with this," Lydia said as she took House's left arm out of his sleeve and removed his shirt. There, wrapped around House's midsection was…well no one in the room looking at it could quite figure out what it was.

"I've watched enough fights in my life that while the head and face are usually the primary targets, blows to the torso double you over, bring the head into easier striking range and can break ribs and therefore puncture a lung," said House. "Wearing a helmet wasn't an option so I went for midrange protection." While House had been speaking, Lydia had been undoing what appeared to be an Ace bandage from around House's chest and abdomen; in fact it was several Ace bandages put together. Underneath that seemed to be large blocks of…something…in a sickly yellow color.

"Is that foam, like you have in a couch seat?" asked Foreman. Lydia nodded.

"Greg and I went shopping yesterday and we picked up some supplies. He was going to take on Hunter without any protection, but I talked him out of it and this is what he came up with. The Ace bandages held on the foam; we went to a re-upholstering store and bought some scrap pieces they had. That is attached to…" Lydia used a scissor she had taken out of her purse and cut away some tape. "Kidney protectors, like athletes wear; we doubled them up and positioned them so that they covered Greg completely around his mid-section. Under that," she said as she began to undo the straps on the protectors, "Is…"

"Ah! Stop playing Bill Nye the Science Guy and watch what you're doing," House said wincing in pain.

"Sorry, I had to pull on the straps to undo them; quit being a baby and let me get this off of you."

"A baby….AH!" With one swift final gesture, Lydia undid the last strap and removed the hard plastic protectors. "I thought you liked me," House said in a whiny tone as he hunched over.

"I said I love you; like never entered into it." Lydia did her best to keep a straight face, but failed miserably as she smiled and laughed at the expression on House's face. The others in the room were laughing or smiling as well. "As I was saying, under that is one last layer of the foam," said Lydia as she pulled the blocks off House's body; he had begun to sweat and the foam started to stick to him. "Is there a towel of some kind over there that I can dry Greg off with? I don't want to put his shirt back on him while he's like this; it will be too uncomfortable." Chase walked over with a handful of paper towels he had grabbed earlier.

"Here you go; if we could get him to the ER, we'd be able to access more supplies," Chase said.

"I'll bring the ER to us; be right back," said Taub as he hurried out of the room.

"House, lean forward a little so I can get a better look at your wound, see if it needs to be re-stitched or not," requested Chase.

"It doesn't need anything," House protested as he squirmed around; he was squirming for two reasons: the unwanted attention and the touch of Lydia's hands on his body as she wiped the sweat off.

"If you form a scar or keloid, you'll never regrow your hair there," Lydia said.

"Your assuming anything would regrow up there to start with," said House referring to his thinning hair.

"I think the top might need one internally and then three externally," Lydia noted as Chase looked it over. Chase smiled.

"Dr. Strohman is right again." The comment got the first real smile out of House since he came to the hospital that morning. Taub returned from the ER with several white towels. Lydia took them from him and began drying House off with much more ease than before.

"Dr. Foreman?" The door had opened and a technician from radiology stuck his head in. "We're ready to do the x-rays. I'll just have to ask everyone to step out of the room."

"I don't need this, I'm fine."

"House, you slammed your head off a ceramic tile floor, you were kicked in the ribs repeatedly and slammed in the head with your cane numerous times. I think the x-rays are a requirement at this point," Wilson said.

"Please, Greg; just to be sure." Lydia reached over and placed her arm around House's shoulder; he took a deep breath and turned to look at her. Between the feel of her hand against his bare flesh and the look in her eyes, he couldn't say no.

"Alright; but depending on what they see, this may mean no nookie tonight," he said giving her puppy dog eyes.

"That's OK; I've taken enough cold showers in my life, I can take one more," Lydia said as she gave House a kiss and stood up.

"Hey, take that with you," he said indicating his cane. "You can explain your part in the 'precautionary measures' scenario."

"Good idea," she said walking to the end of the couch and retrieving the cane. She attempted to twirl it the way House does, but failed. "You'll have to teach me how you do that," she said shaking her head. The x-ray tech was moving the portable machine into the room and setting things up near the couch. "Do you want your shirt back on?"

"Nah, I'm fine. If I need it, I can put it on myself; last time I checked, I was a big boy." He pulled his belt and the waistband of his pants forward and looked downward. "Yup, I still am." Lydia shook her head and bit her bottom lip as she moved away from the couch.

"Dr. House, I have to get back to the Legal department; I still have some work I need to complete there before we can pack up shop for the night," Kyle James said.

"Are you going to be coming back here tomorrow?" House asked.

"Yes, I think it would be more convenient if we took statements from everyone while we're still here. Hopefully we can wrap up our work here tomorrow and clear out."

"Good; when you leave, you can take your wife with you." Kyle smiled.

"She's doing that well?" House nodded as best he could.

"We'll send her home on some new meds, particularly something to heal that bed wound. I'll go over it with them," House said indicating his team. Kyle walked over to where House lay.

"I have to hand it to you, Dr. House; what you did may have been foolish, but it took a lot of guts to be willing to take a beating like that to protect your friends and colleagues. I ought to know; I'm an ex-Marine with a Purple Heart." House's eyes opened wide at James' words. "Thank you, Dr. House." Kyle extended his hand; House was still processing what he just heard, but accepted the gesture as gracefully as he was capable of. Kyle turned and headed for the door.

"We ought to go, too," Jeffrey Davidson said. "Jeanne's father is upstairs with Tyler getting to know him; we were a little afraid at first how Tyler would react, but, he seems OK with him."

"My father brought the best gift with him. I told him about Tyler's fascination with water and even with everything he had to do to get to New Jersey, he made the time to go to a novelty store near him and found a water globe with fish swimming around inside." Everyone in the room smiled.

"Your father brought with him the best gift possible: himself," House said. "What the kid needs is male influence that isn't alternately berating and ignoring him." House glanced at Davidson. "Looks like he's got a pretty good start." Jeanne looked at Jeff and smiled.

"I think so. Thanks for everything, Dr. House," she said as she moved to the door.

"Thanks," Davidson said as he waved to everyone in the room and left.

"Why don't we get out of here so the tech can get the x-rays done and see what we're dealing with? You got the list I sent over of the views we want?" The tech pulled it out and Foreman looked it over. "Great." He headed for the door; Taub, Chase and Thirteen followed. Lydia stepped back over to House.

"Behave yourself; if this," she said holding up the cane, "worked, then I can get you out of here and back home."

"I'll be good…considering it's me," House promised. She bent down, gave him a kiss and headed for the door which Wilson was holding open for her.

"Be back," Wilson said. He gave Lydia a funny look as she passed by him to leave the office. House didn't notice; he laid his head down on the pillows and closed his eyes. Once Lydia and Wilson had joined the team outside the office, Wilson exploded.

"How could you have let him do anything as stupid as this?" Lydia and the team looked at Wilson in shock. "Were you trying to let him prove to you how indestructible he is?" he asked directing his anger at Lydia. "You don't know him the way I do; he once stuck a piece of metal in an electrical socket to see what it felt like to be dead." Lydia was upset at Wilson yelling at her, but she maintained her composure.

"What did you want me to do?" she asked calmly. "You know that once Greg decides to do something, there is very little anyone can do to stop him."

"You could have told me!" Wilson said pacing about and rubbing his forehead. "I could have tried to reason with him, at least make him think about the foolishness of what he was going to do." Lydia shook her head.

"This wasn't about reason, this was about emotion; there's no way you were going to talk him out of doing this."

"What do you mean this was about emotion?" asked Thirteen.

"When Greg heard that you had all been dragged into this mess, he felt terrible, he felt guilty; something he did twenty years ago was ruining the lives of people he cares about. And yes, he does care, despite the way he treats you sometimes."

"The only reason he cares is that he would have to find and train a whole new team," Taub noted. Lydia smiled and nodded her head.

"He did imply something along those lines; but he says things like that to push people away. He is so afraid to have any kind of closeness to anyone that he'd rather be alone. His primary intention in saying the snarky, nasty things he does isn't to hurt anyone; it's to make you go away before he has the chance to care. Because if he dares to care, the thing he cares about is going to be ripped from him, like all the other times in the past. That's why he's done so many things to test your friendship over the years," she said to Wilson. "He wants to see if you'll stick around." Wilson gave her a wry smile.

"I guess he's told you about some of the stunts he's pulled over the years."

"He's told me lots of things and I'm sure there's much more to tell. I know about Vogler, Tritter, I know about him getting shot." She looked down at the floor. "I know about Amber and what he tried to do to save her and how the one thing he didn't want was for you to hate him."

"That was a very rough period," Wilson admitted. "I did need some time away from him, from everyone."

"But when he needed you, you came back; the fact that you returned and didn't leave him permanently, meant the world to him." Wilson looked away and nodded.

"I don't suppose he told you anything about us?" questioned Foreman. Lydia grinned.

"Foreteen," she said pointing to Foreman and Thirteen. She looked sympathetically at Chase. "I know about Cameron." Lydia turned to Taub. "Assorted troubles personally and professionally." Taub took a deep breath.

"Thank you. I'm sure you put that much more delicately than House did."

"Much more," admitted Lydia. Everyone laughed as she looked to the door to see if they were done taking the x-rays yet.

"It's going to be a little longer," Foreman said taking note of Lydia's curiosity. "They're taking his head from every angle possible and more than a few of the ribcage as well." She nodded.

"I'm sorry; I'm just anxious to back in there to him and to see if everything is OK." Foreman stared at Lydia for a second.

"Forgive me for being rude, but…what do you see in House? You are very sweet, very kind, very intelligent, fun and funny…you could have anyone you want; why him?"

"Because I don't want anyone else; I want Greg. Here's the thing: You know _House_; he's rude, he's insulting, he's cynical, he plays pranks, he gets you to pay for his food, he defies rules left and right. Love hasn't blinded me to what he's about. He almost killed a man at Mayfield because he broke the rules; of course, I have to admit I helped him more than a little. But he did what he did to try to bring the poor fellow some sort of happiness. He couldn't stand to see the man in the kind of emotional pain he was in. And it was that man who helped Greg figure out how to give Annie her voice back," Lydia said looking at Wilson.

"Then there's _Greg_; he's the one who when we were at the sporting goods store and heard that my ex managed to lose the kids' soccer balls, not only bought them new ones, but an air pump that plugs into the car, so I could maintain them properly. There's the Greg who left me on line at Wal-Mart, went to the garden section and bought me an orchid because he knew I wanted to get some plants for my dining room window and he thought it was appropriate since we were going to a Japanese restaurant for dinner." Lydia thought for a moment. "Then_ House_ showed up and told me it was the only decorating I should ever expect him to do."

"Are you sure we are talking about the guy lying on that sofa in there? Because he never spends a dime on anything; he's always getting us to pay for things," said Chase.

"That's because he just assumes an air that says this guy's paying, meaning you and by the time you figure out what he's doing, you're too embarrassed to say no because it will make you look cheap," Lydia laughed. They all nodded.

"The best part," Lydia said, "is when _Greg House_ shows up. He's the one who kept throwing paper airplanes at me as I was trying to work last night; each one of them said 'open me' and when I did, written inside each one was 'I love you' in one of the many languages he knows." Thirteen opened her eyes wide.

"Oh my God, that is the sweetest thing! He," she said pointing at the office, "he did that?" Lydia nodded.

"Got to admit, that is pretty smooth," Chase said to Foreman and Taub.

"Yeah, if you know a bunch of languages," Taub said.

"I would have to think of a bunch of other things to say, cause 'I love you' is not in my vocabulary at this point in time," Foreman said.

"It used to be," Thirteen said quietly. Foreman gave her a quick glance and smiled.

"Lydia," Wilson said, "I have to apologize for yelling at you before. It…it's been twice in six weeks that I've seen House seriously injured; or at least it appeared this attack was going to hurt him badly. I am so very glad it didn't and I know I have you to thank for that," he said putting his hand on Lydia's arm. "I'm the one who met the ambulance when they brought House in from the crash site; when they opened the doors…I thought he was dead," Wilson said. "There was blood and he was covered in the dust from the debris…then when I had to make the decision to put him into the medical coma; I questioned whether I was doing the right thing…what would House do if it was me lying there? So when all of this happened and then I thought that it could have been prevented…I got mad. I don't want to lose him. He…he's my best friend." Wilson had tears in his eyes as did Lydia; she moved forward and gave him a hug which Wilson returned in kind.

"It's OK; he's still here for both of us." Wilson nodded as the office door opened up. The radiology tech was backing up, pulling the x-ray machine behind him. He looked to his right and saw the group standing there.

"Dr. Foreman, I'll take these to Radiology so someone can read them, but do you want to take a look?" the tech said turning the machine so that the monitor displaying the x-rays was facing them.

"I'm still amazed at how far the equipment has advanced in the past few years," noted Lydia. After pushing a few buttons, the images of House's x-rays appeared on the screen. As the tech scrolled through them, everyone became more and more amazed.

"Not even a hairline fracture," said Thirteen.

"That's from the accident," said Chase as he pointed to a slight mark on the screen indicating the injury House received previously.

"I guess he did make it through OK," Wilson said in amazement.

"Our 'precautionary measures' worked," Lydia said with a smile.

"Hey, you didn't explain what the deal was with his cane," Taub said.

"I'll tell you inside; it will make Greg wonder what we were talking about as we were standing out here," Lydia said with a twinkle in her eyes.

"You are as bad as he is," Foreman said shaking his head. Lydia smiled and nodded her head.

"Thanks for the help," Wilson said to the tech. Pushing the equipment out of their way, the tech nodded and headed off to the next patient. When they re-entered the room, House was sitting up, he had put his shirt back on and was slowly buttoning it up.

"Sorry, ladies, the show's over; you'll have to wait to see my Herculean body the next time someone tries to beat me to a pulp. You, of course, get to see it much sooner," House said to Lydia.

"Oh, please!" Thirteen said.

"Come on, you know you really want a piece of it," House said as he buttoned his last button with a smirk on his face.

"House…I'm the one who put in your urinary catheter when you were brought in from the crash site." The guys in the room started to chuckle as they saw the look on House's face. Thirteen looked at Lydia. "My deepest sympathies," she said. The chuckles turned to laughter as House looked around trying to figure out a good comeback; his brain was too hazy to think of anything.

"I don't know what everyone is laughing about," Lydia said. "Mine is the only opinion that counts and I have no complaints about any part of him." She put her arm around him gently and gave him a kiss. While he didn't look at anyone in the room, oddly enough, House did not feel uncomfortable with Lydia's gesture in front of his team; It seemed…OK.

"So there, too," House said as he stuck out his tongue. "What did they think of the 'protective measure' you made?" he asked Lydia gesturing to his cane which she still held.

"Actually, I didn't get a chance to show it to them yet," she said as she rose from the couch.

"What did you do while I was getting the x-rays done? Take bets on whether I was going to have some kind of fracture or not?"

"No, we were just talking." House looked at Lydia; as much as his curiosity was peaked, he decided to wait to find out the subject of the discussion. "When Greg told me his idea to get Hunter to go psycho, I wasn't comfortable with it in the least. Then he presented the idea of protecting himself in some manner, but something was still bothering me." She began to walk over to where the team was randomly scattered; Chase was standing as was Wilson, Taub was sitting on a footstool, Foreman in the matching chair, Thirteen on the floor. "As we were standing on line in one of the stores, he twirled his cane and I realized that was the problem; Hunter had called the cane a deadly weapon. I thought what if he gets it away from Greg and uses it on him, hits him with it. Greg told me I was worrying for nothing, but I couldn't get the image out of my head. So I rolled some ideas around until I came up with this." Lydia held the cane by the mid shaft and hit Wilson on the arm with it.

"HEY!" Wilson called out. "Hey….that didn't hurt, really." He took the cane from her. "It's padded!" he exclaimed.

"What? What do you mean?" the others asked. All moved toward Wilson and one by one held and felt the cane.

"What's this stuff on the outside?" Taub asked. Thirteen started to laugh as she realized what it was.

"It's duct tape!" Lydia nodded.

"The handyman's secret weapon, as they say."

"You…painted piano keys on it, just like the cane we gave House," observed Foreman.

"That's the only one I've seen him with this week, although I know he has many others. It's a crude drawing because the paint wasn't adhering well to the tape; I think it had to do with all the dampness."

"Tell them about the condom you made for it," House called out from the couch. He was lying back down with his eyes closed and the ice pack on his forehead; the second pack was back behind his head again.

"Condom?" Wilson questioned.

"It's not altogether an inappropriate name," Lydia said. "We bought a plain cane at the pharmacy; then we went to the craft store and got stretchy denim material, fairly heavy in its thickness so it would be strong. We also bought several sheets of batting…"

"What's batting?" asked Chase.

"The material you put between the layers of a quilt or comforter. We picked up black duct tape and paint, too. Then, back at Greg's place, I dug my sewing machine and staple gun out from the boxes I'm storing there…"

"Which are still preventing me from getting to my guitars."

"I'm getting them out of there this weekend; Würden Sie bitte ruhig sein?" Wilson was bent over laughing.

"You are going to have to teach me some German, if for no other reason than self-defense," he said.

"I have a better idea; Annie speaks it fairly well. Let her teach you," Lydia said with a gleam in her eyes.

"That," he said pointing a finger, "is an excellent idea."

"You just want her to keep you after school for extra help," House said without opening his eyes.

"I wouldn't mind that either," Wilson admitted. He looked at Lydia, standing there patiently. "I'm sorry, continue."

"Well, the first thing I did was attach the batting by stapling it on. I didn't want to make it too thick or the cane would look suspicious; nor did I want to compress it down too much or it wouldn't really have the padded effect we wanted. So that took a while. Then I made the…uh…'condom'…I sewed a tube out of the denim material and closed up one end; we slowly slid it over the batting and it helped it hold some measure of shape. This still had to look like a cane, after all. When we got to the bottom, I hand stitched it closed and then wrapped the duct tape carefully around to hide the material. Since duct tape isn't shiny, it didn't reflect any light to catch the eye and bring any unwanted scrutiny. I painted it to look like Greg's other cane and reattached the rubber cane tip at the bottom. Unfortunately, I think that's what cut open Greg's head is the edge of the rubber tip; with the way Hunter was swinging it, all it had to do was catch one edge of the cut, and it was easily opened up again."

"That's OK," Foreman said. "It could have been far worse if you hadn't constructed this thing. I mean, I can tell you first hand, it hurts to get hit by it; but if it was the wood hitting you? I can't imagine what it would have felt like."

"It probably was a lifesaver," noted Wilson smiling.

"Yeah, Hunter got me in my back and it hurts like crazy, but not half as bad as I would have expected," Chase said wriggling his shoulders.

"Bitch, complain, bitch complain; you people have no idea what true pain is. Which is something I wanted to discuss with you, Dr. Wilson…" House began.

"House, no," Wilson said anticipating the request.

"Chillax, will you? You don't even know what I'm going to say. I was going to ask for some Tylenol three…or fours even. Just something to get me through the next twenty-four hours. Give them to Lydia if you want; she'll make sure I don't overdo it." House opened his eyes and turned to look at Wilson. He saw that Wilson was wrestling with the thought.

"Alright, I'll give them to Lydia and let her dole them out. But you're only getting four of them; one every six hours."

"Fine. I'll take it at this point."

"Let's get the back of your head stitched, then you can get him out of here to rest at home," Chase said. Lydia smiled.

"That would be great. I've got so much I need to do over at my place; the bedrooms need to be painted, but at least they are off-white right now and I bought paint with the primer already mixed in."

"The landlord is letting you put real color on the walls?" Thirteen asked. "Usually you have to keep it very neutral."

"Well, we are renting with an option to buy, so he's being a little bit more liberal with us on that subject. After that, I have to get my things out of the storage unit and get then to the house, put the kids' beds together, put the drawers back in their dressers, put the book cases back together…oh, there is just so much! I have the two bathrooms and the kitchen done and my bedroom set is being delivered Saturday. Annie still has to do things…" Lydia had waked back over to the couch and sat down on the floor near House's head. "Tell me to calm down and that it will all fall into place." House winced as he turned on his side and reached for her hand.

"You'll be fine. I know you want everything done by the time the kids get here, but they can help with some things; that's why you had them, remember? Besides, I'll be able to help with some things."

"You shouldn't be doing much of anything for the next few days," Lydia said.

"Which is why it's a good thing you have friends," Thirteen said looking at the guys. "I have an SUV and so does Chase; all of us can paint and I'm sure we all know how to carry things and work a screwdriver." They all nodded in agreement.

"Sounds good to me. After we get off of work tomorrow, we'll come over and see what you're dealing with and go from there," Wilson said. House smiled; he knew the gesture was for him as much as for the amazing person Lydia had shown herself to be in the past few days. Glancing at her, he saw she was tearing up; he forced himself to sit up and pulled her up onto the couch next to him.

"Are…are you sure you don't mind? This is such a tremendous favor you'd be doing for Annie and me."

"Well, consider it your welcome to the team. Unofficially, of course," Chase said. Lydia pushed herself off the couch and ran over to Wilson who was closest to her and threw her arms around him; House was feeling like a real idiot. The sight of the two of them like that made him tear up. Lydia then went to each team member in turn and hugged them too.

"Hey, hands off my girl," House said as she got to Thirteen. "I don't need you giving her any ideas." Thirteen looked at House over Lydia's shoulder and gave him a one-fingered salute. Lydia laughed as she caught sight of the gesture as she pulled back.

"Thank you. Thank you all so much. I can't tell you how much this means to me." Lydia stopped for a moment. "I have to call Annie and let her know how this all went; she wanted me to call when this was done." She rushed back over to the couch and grabbed her pocketbook. "You be a good patient and let Dr. Chase take care of you so I can get you home," Lydia said as she stroked House's cheek.

"Yes, Fraulein," he said as she leaned down and gave him a kiss.

"I'll be right back," Lydia said with a big smile as she left the office. Thirteen walked over to the couch where House sat and crouched down.

"House, I say this from the bottom of my heart: you do anything to screw up this relationship, and I will personally kick you in the nuts until your eyeballs are permanently rolled back in your head." House watched through the half-opened blinds as Lydia walked back and forth talking on the phone.

"Be my guest; I'll deserve it."


	18. Chapter 18

Puppet Master

Chapter eighteen-"Closing Night"

By:Purpleu

"I wish you would have agreed to use a wheelchair."

"I didn't need one when I came home from having a building dropped on me, I don't need one now."

Lydia opened the door to House's apartment and stepped inside. House followed slowly with Wilson right behind him; Wilson was carrying two large bags marked "Patient's Belongings." As House moved far enough into the living room, he walked past him and placed the bags on the floor near the boxes holding the things Lydia and Annie brought with them from Arizona. He surveyed the stack of cartons.

"This is everything you brought with you when you moved?" Wilson asked. "I know you have furniture in the storage unit, but this isn't too bad. Between all of us, we should be able to move this easily," he said referring to the team.

"Actually, a few of them are empty; I've been taking things like towels and dishes and other supplies over to my place a little bit at a time. Those things, in addition to a few things I've purchased, and the two bathrooms and the kitchen are all set. I even have food in the cabinets and refrigerator," Lydia said.

"She was holding on to the cartons in case I needed them for my new crib. Did they give you a time frame for the delivery of your bed?" asked House who was sitting on the arm of the sofa. "Or is it a matter of we'll put you on the truck first, but you'll be delivered last."

"No, they were more specific than that; they said between three and five on Saturday."

"How many rooms need painting?" asked Wilson.

"Just the three bedrooms. The landlord had done the living room, dining room, kitchen and bathrooms before they started showing it; oh, and Annie's apartment is done, too. I guess he was anxious to get it rented, so he figured he'd leave the bedrooms to the renter's discretion. As I said to Dr. Hadley, since we are renting it with an option to buy, the landlord is being very laid back as far as any changes we want to make. Short of knocking down walls, we are free to do what we want."

"I think you need to install an elevator," said House as he gingerly rose into a standing position. He grimaced as he took a few hesitant steps toward the hallway.

"Do you need any help?" Wilson asked.

"Nope, just going to go pee; now if you asked me that question," House said nodding in Lydia's direction, "I would have asked you to hold something for me." Lydia gave him a look and folded her arms.

"I'm not going to start anything that we can't finish. And I know you would try to start something." House acknowledged Lydia's words with a pained look.

"Don't count on it tonight. Of course it would help if my doctor let me have medicine," House said pointedly.

"Lydia has the four Tylenol with codeine; you can have one after you eat something," said Wilson. "You know they can't be taken on an empty stomach."

"I told you, I made a pork loin, mashed potatoes and broccoli when I was at my place setting things up. I brought it here and now it just has to be reheated. Eat some of that and I can give you your pill." Lydia now had her hands on her hips and had her head tilted to the side. House pursed his lips as he thought over the deal.

"OK, but no greens. I'm a bovine and spud kind of guy." Lydia shook her head.

"Fine; I won't force the issue for now. When my kids are around, though, I'll need your help in setting a good example." Wilson started to laugh.

"Lydia, think about who you're asking to set a good example," he said.

"Laugh all you want Mr. Potato Head," House said turning around and facing the two. "But you're hopefully going to spending a lot of time with Annie; guilt by association: you're going to be spending a lot of time with the kiddlings, too. And you hate the green stuff as much as I do." Lydia gave Wilson a "gotcha" look; Wilson seemed embarrassed at being caught.

"Go…do what you have to do and get back out here so I can leave," Wilson said quickly changing the subject. House continued down the hall to the bathroom as Lydia shook her head.

"You know, he's probably going to try and convince the children that he's allergic to vegetables," she said smiling.

"I tried that on my parents when I was a kid; it didn't work," Wilson said.

"James! I'd expect that out of Greg, not you." Wilson smiled.

"I'm not as innocent as I look; and I'm sure he tried something along those lines as well."

"I'm sure he did," Lydia said as she walked to the kitchen. "You're heading home now, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but not to rest; I've got a lot of paperwork to look over. And now, with what Hunter pulled, we're going to have people crawling all over the hospital and poking their noses in everywhere. I am not looking forward to this," Wilson said.

"Would you like to take some food home with you?" Lydia offered.

"I'd love to have a home cooked meal; I don't get them unless I make them for myself."

"Or I help you make them," House said re-entering the room.

"Yes and he even knows how to cook," Wilson said with mock disgust. Lydia looked at the two skeptically. "He really does; we both do. We took a cooking class together when he got out of Mayfield."

"I needed to do something to stop thinking about you," House said. "Then the instructor had to bring up the fact that we'd be cooking chicken breasts and thighs and…"

"Stop!" Lydia said squeezing her eyes shut. "I get the idea. Go lie down on the couch; I'll put together a plate for you and one for James to take home." She opened her eyes and looked at Wilson. "Meat and potatoes only?"

"Yes, please." Wilson wandered back into the living room as House was positioning himself on the couch. "What do you want me to do with that stuff?" Wilson nodded toward the two bags he had brought in with him; they contained the foam and other supplies House used to protect himself from Hunter's assault.

"I'll have to figure out what to do with it; probably hold on to it for the next time I royally piss a psycho off. Do me a favor; go into my bedroom, try not to think of all the fun I have in there and get me my cane. It's leaning against my night stand."

"What's wrong with the one Lydia made?" Wilson asked. "It seems quite functional."

"I plan on framing it; keeping it as a memento of good triumphing over evil," House said as he held it up and looked at it. Wilson laughed and went down the hallway to the bedroom. House surveyed the cane and squeezed different sections of it, marveling at how it held its shape despite the pummeling he received from Hunter; he also noted that Lydia's design probably saved his life.

"Did you send Wilson to go get your real cane?" Lydia asked as she saw House examining her creation. She came into the living room carrying a plastic grocery bag containing Wilson's dinner.

"Yeah, I told him I'm preserving this one for posterity." Lydia smiled as she walked over and sat on the edge of the couch.

"It served its purpose; it protected you as best as we could have hoped," she said as she reached over and ran her hand down House's right cheek.

"Here you go," Wilson said handing House the cane he and the team had given him the day he left the hospital.

"Thanks; put the MacGyver cane over by the piano," House asked. Wilson and Lydia both laughed.

"That's a very apt name for it," Wilson commented. "Boy, if you can come up with something like this," he said holding up the cane to Lydia, "You could be a new age Bond girl; tech savvy and beautiful."

"That's far from high tech," House said, "But you're right about the beautiful part." Lydia smiled and rose from the couch; she carried the plastic shopping bag to Wilson.

"There are your meat and potatoes and a few biscuits. Oh, and I also made a gravy out of the drippings from the pork loin, so you do have gravy for the mashed potatoes, if you like." Wilson shook his head.

"How…when did you have time to do all this and make the magical cane, too?" he asked.

"The cane I made last night after we got home from dinner…"

"And did some other really fun stuff…." chimed in House. Lydia took a deep breath and ignored him.

"…And the food I made this morning after I dropped Greg at work and went to the house to do some work. I…I'm just used to taking care of people. This is what I've always done." Wilson smiled.

"You're amazing," he said and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, what is this with everyone taking shots at my girl?" House said sitting up as he spoke. "First Thirteen tries for girl on girl action, which normally I wouldn't mind if I'm also a part of it. And now you're getting all kissy-faced with her."

"OK, I have to confess: in these few short days, I have fallen head over heels for Lydia," Wilson said as he walked over to the sofa. "How could I not fall for someone who's made my best friend wildly happy; something I never thought I'd see." He looked down at House; his forehead had a huge lump on it that was starting to turn purple. The contusion under his eye was less swollen, but also showed evidence of changing colors. It bothered Wilson more than he thought it would to look at House that way. Lydia came and stood next to Wilson.

"I never thought I'd see it either," House said looking up at Lydia and smiling.

"Well, let me get out of here, let you two eat and that way I can dive into my own dinner," Wilson said. "Good night, Lydia." He gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Again with the kisses," House complained. He looked up at Wilson mischievously.

"Good night, House. Thanks for everything you did…even if you are crazy." No other gesture seemed appropriate, so he held up his hand for a fist pump. House responded in kind.

"Good night, Wilson." Lydia walked with him over to the door and opened it.

"If there are any problems, call me," Wilson said quietly.

"He'll be fine," Lydia reassured him. He stepped out into the hall and then out of the building. Lydia closed and locked the door behind Wilson. She walked back over to the couch and sat down beside House.

"How are you doing?" she asked as she took his hand. "Do you want any ice packs?" House shook his head.

"Nah, not now; maybe after I eat. I want to get the food into me so I can take the pill. Wilson should have prescribed two at a time; he knows I can handle it."

"No, he shouldn't have; especially with head trauma, you don't want to overdo things. What can I get you to drink? And nothing with alcohol," Lydia warned.

"Damn, you are no fun," House said tapping his cane on the ground in mock frustration.

"That's not what you said last night; or the night before that. Or the night before that." Lydia leaned over and gave House a gentle kiss; she was afraid to do much more.

"Come here," he said and wrapped his arms around her. "I haven't been able to have any decent physical contact with you since everything happened this afternoon." Lydia hesitated.

"Greg, I don't want to hurt you." House shook his head.

"I'm fine. You made sure of that." Lydia smiled and leaned forward into his arms. As Lydia held on to House, images of the horror she witnessed this afternoon flashed through her mind; she knew he was OK, but the whole situation, what she saw, knowing House's reasons for what he did, hit a little too close to home. She began to cry. House felt her body shake as he held her; he pushed her back slightly so he could make eye contact with her.

"I'm fine…hey, come on…what's the matter?" House couldn't read what he saw in her eyes, so he wasn't sure how to react.

"I just can't get the picture…of Hunter beating you out of my head; and then…when I think about why you let him do that to you…I think of what Annie did for me…and...I…" Lydia fell against House sobbing; he held her as tightly as he could manage as he kicked himself for letting her see what happened today. He could have had her wait up in his office and have someone call her to come down; but he was afraid she wouldn't stay up there, that she would come down too soon and ruin everything. House thought that if she was near what was going on and could see it, it would be better than the uncertainty. He couldn't allow himself to trust her, to trust that she would respect his wishes; House knew now he was wrong.

"Look, don't try and make me into some kind of hero that I'm not," House said pushing Lydia back, but not looking at her. "I did what I did for myself; I didn't want to hear Wilson crying about how he couldn't save people from dying and I don't need the hassle of forming a new team. Not that there would be a need to if Hunter had won." Lydia shook her head.

"You're lying to yourself if you really believe that you did what you did for strictly selfish reasons; you did it because you care about James and your team. No one would deliberately subject themselves to a beating like that if they didn't care."

"It wasn't the first time in my life I'd gotten a beating; at least this time someone was there to try and protect me." He looked up from the floor where he had focused his gaze, and saw Lydia looking at him with pity that he wasn't sure he deserved. "I was wrong…I never should have had you watch what was happening in the lobby; first of all, I should have known it would make you think of what happened to Annie. Secondly," House drew a deep breath, "I didn't trust you to do what I wanted. With you being right there where you could see everything, I thought you'd be in shock and would freeze up and just stay in Cuddy's office too afraid to come out. I knew you'd get upset…but I didn't care." House closed his eyes and leaned his head gingerly back on the couch. "I should have trusted you. I'm sorry." There was silence in the room; it seemed to House as if an eternity passed.

"You haven't been able to trust most people in your life; parents are a child's first protectors and look what yours did. Your father and other people in your family abused or ignored you and your mother did very little to stop any of it. You never made any close friends in school because you couldn't trust that they weren't going to be taken away from you. It was a miracle you and James became friends; even with him, you're always doing things to see how much he'll put up with. And from what you've told me it's been a lot." House slowly shook his head.

"A hell of a lot more than most people would." House turned and finally looked at Lydia again; he reached out and took her hand.

"And then came your leg and the decisions that were made that went against your wishes. The fact is neither Stacy, nor Dr. Cuddy, nor the other doctors who refused to listen to you, trusted your medical judgment; they showed you no respect. How can you trust someone who doesn't respect you?" House looked away from Lydia and stared off across the room.

"I never gave a crap about anyone respecting me as a person, only a doctor. Trying to get respect as a person was a losing battle from the beginning," House said. Lydia heard the catch in his voice and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Do you know my father never showed up for my medical school graduation ceremony? Or graduation from college?" House assumed a hunched position and looked at the floor. "He wouldn't even come to my high school graduation. He said, 'Why bother? What good is ever going to come of him?' All because I didn't want to be like him," House said disgustedly. Lydia thought for a moment, then bent herself over from the waist so that she too was hunched over and was even with House's line of sight.

"It's a good thing you're nothing like him; if you were, we wouldn't be sitting here like this right now." House was quiet for a moment; then seeing the grin on her face and realizing the absurdity of the position they were both in, he smiled and started to chuckle.

"Leave it to you to find something funny in all this," he said slowly straightening his back. Lydia put her arm around House and began to lightly massage his shoulders.

"I'm so proud of you for what you did today; it was brave and crazy and unbelievably selfless for you to have put yourself at risk like that; I don't care what the reasons were." House looked off to the side, away from Lydia.

"I don't deserve any…"

"Greg, yes you do," interrupted Lydia. "You deserve to be loved and cherished and…praised…and I don't care if it takes the rest of my life…I am going to make sure that one day you believe that. Nothing," she said "would make me happier." She fought desperately to hold back tears, but she was failing miserably.

House wasn't too far behind her; his eyes had moistened and he was breathing rapidly to hold back his emotions. He ignored the pain he felt and pulled Lydia in to a tight embrace; he began kissing her anywhere his lips could reach: the top of her head, her neck, her shoulder, her cheek, her lips. He finally looked at her; it made it harder to control his feelings, but he managed to hold on enough so that he could speak.

"So, I guess between what you just said and repainting all the bedrooms, you plan on sticking around for a while," House said with a slight smile despite his tears. Lydia was able to laugh.

"I plan on sticking around as long as you want me to," she said smiling. She leaned forward and kissed House very lightly.

"Hey, bring those lips back here; I'm capable of a little more activity than that," House said. He began kissing her again and got more and more intense with each kiss; House reached up and started playing with Lydia's ear, which unfortunately made her jump and bang her forehead into his cheekbone.

"Oh, Greg I'm sorry!" House winced and brought his hand up to his face, not sure whether to touch it to console himself or just leave it be.

"It's OK; that's what I get for tickling your ear. I should know by now how you would react." Lydia smiled, but her expression soon changed to a quizzical look. "What's the matter?" asked House

"I think the natives are restless," she said standing up. Now it was House's turn to look puzzled. "Your stomach is growling like crazy; I'm going to go warm up the food." Lydia started to head toward the kitchen.

"Just remember to keep the kale or whatever the green stuff is off my plate." She stopped, turned around and gave House a look.

"Gravy or butter on your mashed potatoes?"

"Both." Lydia looked horrified.

"Greg!"

"Lydia!" he replied, mocking her. "With everything I've been through today…hell, with everything I've put my body through in my life…high cholesterol really isn't an issue for me." Lydia let out a sigh.

"I can't argue with that point; what do you want to drink? Water, soda…"

"Water's fine. And two Tylenol fours." Out from the doorway to the kitchen, came Lydia's head.

"What makes you think I'm not paying attention?"

"My indisputable good looks and charm are distracting you."

"Those two things can distract me from a lot; taking proper care of you is not one of them." She disappeared back into the kitchen. House smiled as he settled back against the couch; he still had to convince himself this was really happening. He wished he hadn't spent so much time in his life going in and out of unreal estate land; maybe if there had been fewer hallucinations, he could see that this wasn't going to all disappear into a vaporized mist. He was in a real relationship with a beautiful and real woman, which was almost more frightening and daunting than anything. But he knew it was because of Lydia he got through his confrontation with Hunter; without her, he knew he would have gone back to Vicodin.

"Here you go," Lydia said as she approached the coffee table. "Take this and lay it on the table, please." She held out a placemat which House took from her and put down on the tabletop.

"Where did that come from?"

"I had a few random mats in my linens; one or two to a set of four gets destroyed, but you never know when the others will come in handy," she said as she set a plate down in front of House, then utensils and a napkin. "Here's the water and your pill. Eat a few bites before you take that; you don't need to make yourself sick." House put the pill down on the mat and dove into the food which looked delicious; he hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was beginning to catch up to him. Lydia brought a mat, her plate, utensils and a bottle of water in from the kitchen and sat next to House on the couch.

"Oh, I forgot a napkin," she said.

"Here," House said handing her one. "You gave me two of them; I thought maybe you were trying to tell me I'm a slob." Lydia gave him a look as she took it from him.

"How is it?" she asked as she cracked open the water. House rolled his eyes as he swallowed what was in his mouth.

"Fantastic; I feel like squealing as much as this pig used to; there is not a lump to be found in the spuds and I haven't even gotten to the biscuit yet." He looked at Lydia and smiled. "First the French toast, now this; you're going to make me fat." Lydia bit her bottom lip as she scooped up some potatoes onto her fork.

"Never trust a Fraulein not to try and fatten you up; of course, there are all sorts of ways to help you burn those calories off." She opened her mouth, put the forkful of potatoes in and slowly slid the fork back out of her mouth is a sexy manner. House smiled only slightly; it wasn't that he didn't enjoy Lydia flirting with him, quite the opposite. No, it was the mention of that word _trust_ that put a damper on his reaction.

"Greg?" He snapped back to the moment and saw that she was looking at him curiously. Might as well get this over with, House thought.

"It's still really bothering me that I didn't trust you enough to know that you'd do the right thing for me. That I didn't care how you would feel; I was more concerned with doing what I thought had to be done to get the results I wanted. It was all about me." Lydia had continued to eat while House was talking, but now she put down her fork, took a drink and looked at him.

"You and I are looking at this from two different points of view. You see this as you being self-centered and selfish; I see it as you trusted me to do what you asked on something that was very important to you. This thing with Hunter had to go right or it would have affected you, James, the people on your team, and so many other people. Most importantly, it would have affected us and our future if you thought you couldn't trust me. So I had a choice: go running out there, grab the cane from Hunter and smack him in the head a few times myself," Lydia said as House smiled at seeing the fire in her eyes, "or stay put and show you that I trusted you and your judgment, just the same as you can trust me. Besides, you proved that you trusted me to make my own decision about the situation; and you know how important it is to me that I'm allowed to make my own decisions," she said with a big smile.

"You make very good decisions," House said as he took her hand. "Coming back to New Jersey, looking me up…."

"Falling in love with you," said Lydia.

"That's still up for debate. There is one bad decision that you've made, that I know you will agree with me on." House began to play with the ring finger of Lydia's left hand; she knew immediately what he was referring to.

"Please don't keep reminding of that," she begged.

"I won't have to; the presence of your children will do that for you," House said as he let go of Lydia's hand and began to eat again.

"My children are the only good thing to come out of that debacle." She picked up her knife and fork. "You'll see next week." She cut into her food and continued with her meal. She started to tell House all about Ben's first soccer game and how Elise ran out on to the field because she wanted to play, too. And all the while, little Ben was yelling at her calling her a "poopy head."

"And do you know what she said to me when I got her off the field?" There was no response. Lydia looked over at House; he had closed his eyes, leaned to his right and placed his head on the back of the couch. His plate was empty and he had taken his pill; Lydia thought it best to get him to go to bed.

"Greg…Greg…" she said quietly as she stroked his cheek. He finally jumped a bit and started to mumble.

"Yeah…hmm…what'd you say?"

"You're falling asleep on the couch; I think you ought to go to bed." Lydia knew it wasn't the pill; there was no way for it to react that quickly. House was just genuinely exhausted from the day and needed to rest. He rose rather unsteadily and wavered back and forth as he stood there.

"Come, I'll help you," said Lydia as House started to move away from the couch and toward the hall.

"I don't need any help," he protested; yet he knew better than to try and fight his weakened body. What he went through today would have knocked the hell out of anyone, never mind someone who was buried under several tons of concrete a few weeks ago. They got to the bedroom and House went straight for the bed. Lydia reached behind him and pulled the covers down before House sat; he closed his eyes and sat motionless as Lydia undid the buttons on his shirt and slid both of his arms out. She knelt down, untied his sneakers and took off his socks

"Lean back." House complied so she could undo his belt and open the fastener and zipper on his pants.

"I can get them off," he said slightly embarrassed; certainly not by being naked in front of Lydia, but by requiring so much assistance. "Open the middle drawer," he said pointing to his dresser, "Pull out pj's and a t-shirt." She complied with his request and gathered up his laundry as he put on the sleepwear she had gotten out. House winced and let out a yell of pain as he swung his legs into the bed. Lydia hovered nearby as he readjusted the pillows and tried to find a comfortable spot. Once he seemed to settle down, Lydia moved closer to the bed and pulled up the covers on to his body. She stood for a moment, watching him as he lay there falling asleep; why so few people had bothered to see what an amazing, wonderful man Greg was, she couldn't answer. She was just so very happy she did. Lydia leaned over and gave House a kiss; he quickly stirred and lifted his head slightly until he saw her. He smiled and laid his head back down on the pillow.

"Good night, Fraulein; Ich liebe dich," House said in a sleepy voice.

"Ich liebe dich, auch," she said as she reached over to turn off the light. Lydia gave House another kiss and then headed to the living room to clean up the dinner dishes.

It was an uneventful night for House and Lydia; she followed standard procedure for a head injury and set her cell phone alarm for every hour, that way she could lightly touch him and make sure he responded. She stayed in a very light sleep all night and was awakened by House tossing and turning a great deal around five-, thirty; figuring that it was the pain waking him up, she got a fresh bottle of water, some cookies and his pill from the kitchen. He barely spoke, just downed a bit of food and his medicine and fell back to sleep. By eight-thirty, both were awake again; House from hunger, Lydia from the need to get things done. He insisted he wanted to take her out to eat; there was a place on the way to PPTH that did a breakfast buffet every morning and House knew from first-hand experience they were great. So after having some toast and coffee to tide them over, Lydia helped House get into the tub to soak his leg.

"You really should come in here; the water's fine," House said with a sly smile.

"No, that's OK," Lydia said. "I've already taken my shower, remember?"

"Yeah, you were sneaky about it, too. You took it when I was on the phone with everybody and their mother."

"Well, I wanted to keep things moving so we could get to Bon-Ton Café; from what you described, the food sounds yummy."

"I'm yummy, too," House said looking at Lydia from under arched eyebrows. Lydia smiled.

"Yes, I know you are," she said as she knelt down, picked up the soap and lubricated her hands with it; he was in a perfect position for her to rub his back. "Lean forward." House knew what she was doing and gladly obeyed her command. As he bent over, he heard a gasp from behind him.

"What's the matter?" he asked. The sight that met Lydia's eyes, sickened her; there was not one part of House's back that did not have a bruise on it, some the angry color of the ones on his face. They all reminded her of how Annie looked after her attack. She did not want to upset House, so she quickly composed herself and answered his question.

"There are more bruises here than I had anticipated; it just surprised me." She was very careful to rub his back less vigorously than she had planned. The soaking had a positive effect on House, overall. He got out of the tub more easily than he went in and he needed very little assistance with getting dressed. By ten minutes to ten, they had left House's place and went to the restaurant. It wasn't fancy or dressed up in any manner, but it did have a certain charm and appeal and the food was delicious. The waiter came around only to take their drink orders and to see if they needed anything that wasn't at the buffet; omelets made to order as well as crepes came from the kitchen. Other than that, it was just the two of them as most of the breakfast crowd had been and gone. They both had good appetites and readily made up for their lack of food yesterday.

House and Lydia just sat in the café, enjoying their food and cappuccino, talking and laughing; he had her retell the story of Elise running onto Ben's soccer field during the game. House told her about scoring the winning goal in lacrosse at the championship game when he was in high school; she told him about making a breakthrough with an autistic child when she was student teaching. The subject matter was all the same type of things they had talked about when House was in Mayfield; little tales and scenes from their lives apart, that made the life they were working on building hold so much hope. Given the recent past for both of them, it was just what they needed.

After House paid the bill, he and Lydia stepped out into a beautiful sunny day, so different from the stormy weather that had blanketed the area for the past few days. As they walked to Lydia's car, House was holding her hand and literally swinging it back and forth; Lydia picked up on it and started to giggle.

"What's so funny?" House asked, genuinely puzzled.

"You. You're swinging my arm so much, I thought you were going to twirl me around or something."

"You mean like this?" And House quickly spun her exactly as she said; luckily she kept her balance and avoided crashing into House. She did, however, start giggling even more than before.

"You…you're crazy," she said.

"I thought I proved that yesterday," House said as they arrived at Lydia's car. He leaned back against it and led her into his arms. "Thank you." He bent his head down and gently kissed Lydia.

"Thank you for what?"

"Everything. For believing in me, for taking care of me last night; I'm sure that was the last thing you wanted to do after taking care of your parents all those years." Lydia shrugged.

"I did that because I had to; I did this because I wanted to. That made me feel like I was being kept prisoner in a very lovely little cage; this," she said as she reached up ran her fingers through House's hair, "this brings a freedom and joy to my heart that I'd never thought I'd find." House smiled; he was about to kiss her again, when a horn started blaring.

"Hey! You gonna be pulling out? Or are you just gonna stand there and suck face?" Lydia looked around House to see a guy in his twenties sitting in a large SUV.

"I'll handle this," House said quietly. He held his cane up above his head. "Handicapped," he yelled out, "takes me a little longer to do things."

"You don't look handicapped to me." Lydia was about to say something when House stopped her.

"Get in on the passenger side, reach over and start the car; I'm driving to the hospital."

"Greg…."

"Frauline…." She shook her head as she did what House requested.

"Be outta your way in a sec," he called to the driver of the SUV. The man backed up enough to allow House to pull out. House's eyes darted quickly around and spotted a car with a woman and two small children in the backseat, slowly approaching from the direction that the SUV had come from. As she pulled alongside Lydia's car, House called out, "Hey lady, you want a parking spot?"

"Yes," she called out gratefully and pulled forward a bit. House quickly got in the car, backed it up and putting it in drive, turned the wheel hard so that Lydia's car started to make a U-turn, but stopped half-way, thereby blocking the SUV and allowing the woman with the kids to pull into the spot.

"HEY!" yelled the man driving the SUV, "Hey, I was waiting for that spot! You mother…"

"I'm sorry," said House as he completed the U-turn and pulled up by the SUV, "But I just realized that the spot is for women with small children and cripples; not jackasses." House floored it, leaving the man screaming obscenities at them as they left. He had gotten several blocks away before realizing that Lydia was sitting with her hands covering her face. "Are you OK?" House asked.

"I don't know whether to yell at you or kiss you," she said laughing through her words.

"I'd prefer it if you'd kiss me." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on his right cheek.

"You're not crazy," she said, "You are certifiably insane."

"I love it when you give me compliments," he said with a smile and continued to drive to the hospital. House pulled into his handicapped spot by the door; he felt uneasy as he got out of the car, but couldn't define why. He slowly walked toward the entrance with Lydia by his side. He stopped just short of triggering the sliding door.

"Greg, what's the matter?"

"I don't know; something's making me uncomfortable." He started to walk toward the door again.

"Maybe it's the idea of going back to the scene of the crime?" Lydia suggested.

"No, that's not it," House said as he entered the lobby. He looked up at the balcony. "That's it." Lydia followed the direction of his gaze; she broke out into a huge smile and started laughing. There, strung across from one side to the other, was a huge banner that read "Welcome back Dr. House".

"That is so sweet," Lydia exclaimed.

"Yeah, so much so I need a syringe filled with insulin."

"House!" House looked to his left; Wilson and Foreman were quickly walking over to him.

"I don't want to talk in the heat of the moment; I've heard that revenge is a dish best served cold," he said.

"We had nothing to do with this," Wilson said quickly. "One of the nurses asked me when we were expecting you back, I said you were coming in today to meet with Kyle James and the next thing we know, that banner is up."

"And you dare to stand there and tell me you had nothing to do with this? You told them when I was coming in."

"But we didn't know this would be the end result," Foreman said, trying to hide a smile. "If there had been more time, we would have helped them make it bigger." He and Wilson both started to laugh as did Lydia. House turned and looked at her.

"Please don't tell me you had anything to do with this," he said. Lydia was laughing too hard to answer him.

"No, no," Wilson said. "Lydia had no idea what was going on."

"But I'm sure the rest of my team did."

"Oh, yeah," Foreman said. "Thirteen's the one who drew and decorated the pink hearts in the corners." House looked more closely at the banner as did Lydia; in each of the four corners was a pink heart with an arrow and the initials G.H. + L.S. in the center. House didn't know whether to pass out or puke.

"That is adorable! Dr. Hadley is so nice," Lydia said. House glanced to his right ever so slightly with the most incredulous look in his face. Sensing he was fighting a losing battle, he thought it best just to cut his losses.

"We're going upstairs now," House said indicating himself and Lydia. "Take that thing down as soon as possible and burn it." He walked over to the desk, signed in, and got a visitor's pass for Lydia. He turned to hand it to her and saw she was walking back from talking to Wilson. She got to House and reached for the pass; House pulled it back.

"Not so fast," he said eying her suspiciously, "What were you two talking about?"

"I asked him how he enjoyed his dinner," she said reaching again for the visitor's pass.

"And….?" Lydia made a face.

"And I asked him for one of the hearts." House rolled his eyes.

"I had to fall in love with a hopeless romantic," he said.

"It's OK; so did I," Lydia replied as she quickly took the pass and placed it around her neck. House smiled as he watched her walk to the elevators.

After half-heartedly reaming out the team for participating in the creation of the banner, House went to check on Bonnie James. She was doing well and chatty, which was typical for her; House was glad to see she was much improved in spirit. He was still concerned about the bed wound and wrote specific instructions on the discharge orders for follow up care; it was rare that House wrote the orders himself, but this case had special meaning from several levels: patient, husband and son, not to mention his first one coming back from the accident.

Lydia had stayed with the team while House made his patient visit; he was going straight down to legal after that to give his statement of yesterday's incident. She and the team just talked and they filled her in on their backgrounds, both professional and personal; she did the same. When House returned it was after four; he looked tired and was complaining of a headache. Wilson suggested that Lydia drop House off at his place to rest and then meet them at the storage unit. As an indication of how he was feeling, House didn't argue; he did however check and make sure that the banner was down before he left for the day.

An hour later, Lydia, Wilson, Foreman, Thirteen, Chase and Taub were standing in front of the open storage locker.

"Wow, this isn't bad at all," said Chase.

"I thought there would be a lot more," Foreman noted.

"Well, some of it is taken apart, like my kids' beds; they have to be reassembled. And my bedroom set is being delivered tomorrow. Other than the boxes you saw at Greg's place, this is it."

"Where are your friend's things?" asked Taub.

"Annie's stuff? There are two boxes with mine. Everything else, she had to buy new; it was ten years, way too long to hold on to much. Sometimes, it's best to start from scratch," Lydia said.

"Everything looks good here," Wilson said. "Lock 'er up and we'll see you tomorrow at eight-thirty." Chase pulled the door down, locked it and handed Lydia the key.

"Thank you. Thank you all so much. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," Lydia said looking at each one of them.

"That's OK; you have no idea how much we appreciate you softening up House," Taub said.

"Yeah, he didn't yell at us nearly as badly as I thought he was going to," said Thirteen.

"Oh, don't underestimate him; he's still House," Lydia replied; she them told them the story of them parking space and the SUV.

"Ok, yeah, he's still House," they all agreed. Lydia laughed and said good night to the group. She hurried back to House's place and let herself in.

"Greg?" she called out. "Greg?" She went down the hall to the bedroom and found him curled up on the bed; lying next to his head on the pillow was a note.

"Fraulein, couldn't stay awake; don't worry I'm OK. Grabbed a biscuit and some of the oink. Just let me sleep. I love you."

Lydia smiled, as she reached out and touched his cheek to make sure she got a response. House squirmed at her touch and she was satisfied that he was fine. It was best to let him rest, she thought, this weekend is going to be busy.

The next morning, everyone arrived at House's apartment on time; he was still sleeping, but Wilson and the team dove in and started to grab boxes. The plan was to stack the boxes in Lydia's living room, so she could unpack them as needed. Chase took the key to her house and drove over to get things going with Taub, Foreman and Wilson right behind him. Annie had gotten there a head of them and greeted them with coffee, muffins and bagels. As soon as everyone had gotten a quick jolt of caffeine, the painting began. Thirteen showed up an hour later with the pieces of Lydia's kids' beds; Lydia arrived at the same time with House. He looked much better that the night before and Lydia had him sit on the couch and assemble the beds with Thirteen; since she had bagged and labeled all the screws, putting thing together was a breeze. They stopped at various points for meal breaks and House was surprised at how much he was actually enjoying the conversations, both as a participant and observer; he was even able to joke about the banner. The group didn't work late as some of them had plans for the evening, but agreed to meet back at Lydia's tomorrow to finish things up.

As Lydia drove back to House's apartment, she noticed he was very quiet.

"Greg are you OK? You've barely said a word for the entire car ride."

"Yeah," he said looking out the window. "I'm just going over something in my head."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"No, not yet." He glanced over and saw the concerned look on her face. "I'm fine; I promise." She nodded, but was unsure what to think of the way House was acting.

The next day everyone met around noon to give those who needed it, time to recover. Things moved along quite well and by five, everything was nearly done. Lydia and House left the group there to get a bottle of champagne to celebrate as well as some beer, soda and iced tea to go with dinner. Lydia had ordered several trays of wings and other assorted goodies from Otto's to celebrate her new place; but when they got there, the order wasn't ready. Somehow the wrong date had been written down and Mike, the owner, said he didn't even have enough in the back to make up a decent catering order. He was very apologetic but Lydia was still very upset.

"Look, let's go back to your place and talk to everyone, we'll work something out," House said trying to calm her. She nodded and they returned to her house.

"I just don't believe they got the date wrong," Lydia said as she climbed the stairs. "I even said Sunday the eleventh."

"People make mistakes," House said. "You look really upset. Why don't you sit down?" Lydia saw the team standing in the corner of the room; Wilson and Annie were standing where the living room and large hallway to the dining room met. She got more upset, the more she looked at everyone. "Come in, sit down," House urged.

"I don't want to sit down," she said getting agitated. She began to walk toward the kitchen when House stopped her.

"Are you sure about that?" He turned her so she faced Wilson and Annie; the two stepped aside and there…was a rocker. Lydia's mouth fell open and she let out a cry; she started to take a few steps toward it. then stopped. She saw the arms, the spindles, even the headrest looked exactly the same as hers.

"It looks just like mine; where did you find one that looks just like it?"

"Oh, just lying around in the street," House said. Lydia looked at him with widened eyes and shook her head. He came over, took her by the hand and led her to the rocker; House knelt down on the floor and pulled her down next to him. He took her hand and ran it underneath the seat until she found the names that had been engraved there over the years. House watched her face closely; the look of pure shock and joy was rivaled only by her reaction to seeing Annie awaken from her catatonic state. She was moving her mouth, but no words came out.

"Remember the other day, I 'accidentally' left some paperwork by my side of the bed," House asked. Lydia nodded and took one of the tissues Annie was offering. "Well, once you came to the hospital and brought me the files up in my office and I knew you weren't wandering around the streets, Wilson gave Annie the rocker and she…"

"I brought it to Tim's brother Jason. Tim's our friend that we were staying with; him and his wife Susan. Since Jason works as an antique restorer, I figured he was the one to bring it to." House stood up and stretched his leg; Annie took his place on the floor to Lydia's right. "He did have to replace the legs leading down to the rockers themselves, but everything else is original," Annie said. "It was all Greg's idea." Lydia sat there stunned. She hugged Annie and was about to look for House, when she heard music; piano music to be exact.

"When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are…." Lydia looked to her left, the origin of the sound. The team moved to their right and there sat House at baby Grand piano. Wilson had to come over and help Lydia to her feet; she moved forward not believing what she was seeing, tears streaming down her face. When she neared the piano, House stopped playing and allowed her to sit down.

"My piano…how."

"How do you know it's yours?" House asked.

"My father's cigarette burn. He was trying to show me that I was doing something wrong and he was too lazy to get an ashtray. He leaned it on the edge and it burnt too far down and burnt the wood." Lydia looked at House. "You…you're crazy. Greg, I know what this must have cost to have it shipped and you had it done in a rush. I…"

"The fact that you learned to play piano, on this piano, is a part of your history. It's also a part of our history; if you hadn't been playing for Annie that day or any day, who knows if we would have met. This," he said looking at the piano, "is a part of us; there is no way you were going to leave it behind." Lydia sobbed as she fell into House's arms; between the rocker and the piano she was completely overwhelmed and stayed in one position crying for several minutes.

"We're going to get going," Wilson said touching Lydia on her shoulder.

"But…wait, your dinner," she said.

"Mike has a bunch of stuff waiting for us; he was in on this," Chase said.

"And your dinner is waiting on the table, compliments of Mike," Thirteen said. Lydia shook her head.

"I can't thank you all enough, "she said standing up and hugging each one of them.

"It was our pleasure," Foreman said. They all grabbed their belongings and quickly exited so that House and Lydia could be alone. She stood turning back and forth, looking between the rocker and the piano.

"Welcome home," House said coming up behind her. Lydia turned around, threw her arms around him and kissed him over and over again.

"What you did, was make this my home by being a part of it and caring enough to make me happy. It's a feeling I never want to end," she said.

"Then that makes two of us," House said. He wrapped his arms around her, gave Lydia a kiss, then looked at her curiously.

"Are you really hungry?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Good; let's go check out your new bed." She smiled, took him by the hand and led him down the hall to her bedroom. House glanced back at the living room as he turned the corner to the room.

That's one small step for House, he thought; one giant leap for Greg.


	19. Chapter 19

"Puppet Master"

Chapter Nineteen-"Author's Notes and Preview of Purpleu's Next Story as Told by Dr. House"

By: Purpleu

Hello, members of fanfiction who have been following me through the writings of the person who calls themself "Purpleu". Normally, I would just sit back and let this mysterious entity with the odd name do the talking for me, but it would seem that the MORON forgot to put an author's note at the end of the last chapter of "Puppet Master". Therefore, I have been pressed into service to tell you what he/she should have; I just hope I'm getting paid for this.

Chapter eighteen of "Puppet Master" was the final chapter of the story; Malcolm Hunter's in jail, Lydia got her grandmother's rocker fixed, her piano back and I'm about to help her test out her new bed. The only way it could be better is if Wilson gave me a few extra Tylenol with codeine.

So you know, LavenderX, or whatever their name is, does plan on writing about Lydia and me some more (yeah, and Wilson and my team, too; don't throw a fit). There's just going to be a little break to give their gray matter a rest; it seems the way they're wired, you can hear the circuit breakers snapping when overworked, so a cool down period is needed. You can look for the next story by Purpleu around June first, called "And the Children Will Lead".

After learning of the title, I "accidentally" got a look at the outline of the story; it was a matter of self-defense. It seems Lydia's kids come to live with her (I am trembling with anticipation…not!) and a recurring theme comes back: trust. After everything they've been through with the Jerk (also known as their father), can they trust me to treat them and their mom right; by the same token, can I trust the rug rats not to try and screw up things between Lydia and me so they can have her all to themselves? My patient also has trust issues with his parents; now there's a story I can relate to. They're sure he's doing drugs; he swears he's not. I side with the kid, which just thrills the parents to no end. The bigger problem: what is causing the kid's convulsions, hallucinations, and all the other nasty things going on? And can I get both the parents and the kid to trust me at the same time so I can treat him? Like the drip of an IV through the tubing, so are the Medical Dilemmas of My Life…. (Sorry Days of Our Lives; I couldn't resist!)

By the way, Purpleu will still be doing some writing to keep in practice; you can continue to look for the poems about that television show he/she is obsessed with here every Monday and Wednesday for the next two weeks (A TV show about a doctor with a snarky attitude….who wants to watch crap like that when the Discovery channel is showing a program about the mating process of the anaconda? I guess there's no accounting for taste…..) After that, it will be time for yours truly again in the new story; yes and Lydia and Wilson and the team and whomever else Purpleu decides to write about.

Hmmm…Purpleu….You know, I once knew a hooker named MagentaZ…I wonder if they're any relation….

Good Night, don't let the bedbugs bite…and if they do, go to the Clinic on my day off.

Signed,

Gregory House, M.D.


End file.
